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UONO  BEACH.  CALfF. 


University  of  California 

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SEP   119B8 


I 


»L    u-.Jfc.« 


THE      APOTHEOSIS 

OF 

MR.    TYRAWLEY 


BY 


E.  LIVINGSTON  PRESCOTT 


NEW     YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
1896 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PACK 

I.  A  MAN  OF  SIN I 

II.  HIS  AFFECTIONATE  FRIEND II 

III.  A   SORT   OF  ISHMAEL 21 

IV.  A  STRANGE  INSPIRATION 31 

V.  THE   PLEASURES   OF   RESPECTABILITY   .      .>      .      .  41 

vi.  THE  DOCTOR'S  ADMONITION 53 

VII.  THE  HAWK   IN  THE  DOVE'S   NEST 62 

VIII.  A  RANK  IMPOSTOR 72 

IX.  AN  UNPLEASANT  EXODUS 82 

X.  ADRIFT 93 

XI.  SONG   OF  THE   SIRENS IOI 

XII.  IT  WAS  THE   BODY   OF   A  MAN 112 

xiii.  "i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC" 121 

XIV.  "I   INTEND   TO   DISAPPEAR" 139 

XV.  THE  FIRST   PLUNGE 146 

xvi.  MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR 158 

xvii.  "THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"     ....  169 

XVIII.  THE  HERO   OF  A   STREET   FIGHT 187 

XIX.  A  BUSINESS  BANQUET 193 

XX.  HUNTED   DOWN 2O7 

XXI.  THAT   LITTLE  VIPER 2ig 

XXII.  NEMESIS  AND  EXCELSIOR 232 


20463S3 


THE  APOTHEOSIS  OF  MR.  TYRAWLEY 


CHAPTER  I 
A    MAN   OF    SIN 

MR.  TYRAWLEY  was  down  on  his  luck.  He 
wore  beautiful  clothes;  he  was  peculiarly  hand- 
some, having  a  pure  Greek  profile,  deep  blue 
eyes, — which  expressed  sentiments  at  present 
unknown  to  their  possessor, — a  heavy  chestnut 
mustache  and  chestnut  hair,  whose  hyacinthine 
waves  conventional  cropping  could  not  alto- 
gether efface;  the  figure  of  an  athlete  of  six 
feet,  and  the  complexion  of  a  delicate  girl. 
But  all  these  advantages  had  so  far  failed  to 
assure  to  their  owner  any  prospect  of  dinner, 
and  his  breakfast  had  been  slight.  So  he  was 
depressed,  bit  his  mustache  in  the  absence 
of  any  thing  else  to  bite,  and  envied  a  stout 
artisan  who  sat  eating  hot  beefsteak-pudding 
out  of  a  yellow  basin,  just  brought  him  by 
his  wife,  and  flinging  bits  of  bread  to  the  sea- 
gulls flying  round. 

The  place  was  the  pier  at  Claretown,  on  a 
stormy,  sunny,  breezy  day;  the  hour  12.30,  the 
season  autumn.  There  was  the  usual  crowd  of 


2  THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

promenaders  on  the  esplanade  and  pier;  and  a 
very  few  benighted  individuals,  leaving  the  gay 
throng,  had  descended  among  the  timbers  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  ladder,  with  lines  and  bait,  and 
an  impression  that  they  could  catch  fish. 

Now,  Mr.  Tyrawley  had  outlived  all  illusions; 
therefore,  when  he  descended  among  these 
dreamers,  it  was  only  that  he  might  escape  at 
once  from  the  beefsteak-pudding  and  his  own 
large  circle  of  unprofitable  acquaintances. 

He  leaned  in  an  ill-tempered  way  against  a 
great  black  beam  and  smoked;  for  people  will 
give  you  tobacco  who  will  not  ask  you  to  dinner; 
and  tobacco  deadens  one  sort  of  sickness,  if  it 
causes  another.  Near  him  sat  a  small  boy  in 
sailor  costume  of  a  fancy  and  aristocratic  char- 
acter, dangling  a  pair  of  short,  blue  silk  legs, 
and  a  line  big  enough  to  catch  a  dolphin, 
toward  the  swirling  green  water,  and  absently 
munching  a  bun,  which  Tyrawley  felt  to  be 
aggravating.  He  noticed  with  languid  curiosity 
that  the  small  boy's  sister  was  fishing  too,  but  in 
a  half-hearted,  feminine  way,  her  eyes  strained 
to  the  distant  horizon,  where  the  black  purple 
clouds  were  drifting  up,  or  to  the  deep  brown 
fringe  of  seaweed  sweeping  down  on  the  timbers. 
He  was  not  much  interested  in  girls;  his  ac- 
quaintance with  women,  though  vast,  was  super- 
ficial, and  confined  chiefly  to  married  ladies — 
dowagers  for  choice — as  more  worth  cultivation. 
So  he  only  casually  remarked  that  her  eyes  were 


A   MAN   OF   SIN  3 

dark  and  large,  and  her  cheek  of  that  warm  pale- 
ness on  which  red-rose  crimson  easily  flashes  and 
fades;  that  she  had  a  stream  of  fair  hair,  not 
unlike  seaweed,  with  which  the  wind  played  wild 
tricks;  and  that  she  would  be  pretty  some  day. 

Suddenly  something  happened — it  was  the 
abrupt  and  unintentional  descent  of  the  small 
boy  into  the  water,  bun,  line,  and  all;  and  this 
incident  was  immediately  followed  by  a  further 
development,  namely,  a  flying  of  female  skirts 
into  the  green,  bubbling  whirlpool  he  had 
created. 

"By  Jove!  little  fool,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley 
between  his  clenched  teeth.  "  I  think  I'll  go 
too;  "  and  he  swung  himself  over  the  edge  with 
a  cool  and  wary  calculation  of  exactly  where  to 
drop. 

The  girl  was  actually  trying  to  swim,  though 
the  water  kept  dashing  her  rather  alarmingly 
against  the  beams,  but  she  saw  Tyrawley's  inten- 
tion, and  managed  to  gasp: 

"Not  me— Bertie." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  peevishly  changed  his  course, 
secured  the  sailor,  who  appeared  little  at  home 
in  his  native  element,  and  chucked  him  into  the 
arms  of  a  lad  who  had  been  fishing  near;  while 
he  snatched  up,  just  in  time,  a  limp,  white  figure 
that  was  drifting  under  the  pier,  and  managed, 
with  the  help  of  excited  spectators,  to  scramble 
up  the  slippery  steps  on  to  the  safe  ground. 

'-'Give  me  the  young  lady,  sir,"  said  the  pro- 


4  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

prietor  of  the  beefsteak-pudding.     "  You  don't 
look  over  grand  yourself." 

But  Mr.  Tyrawley  had  a  feeling  that  he  was 
much  more  likely  to  collapse  without  his  slight 
burden  than  with  it.  So  he  shook  his  head  and 
climbed  the  upper  stairs. 

Here  he  was  greeted  by  a  frantic,  flushed, 
sobbing,  laughing  woman  in  velvet  and  furs,  who 
announced  herself  "Her  mother,"  and  embraced 
him  and  her  child  alternately. 

He  put  her  gently  aside,  and,  laying  the  girl 
down  on  a  couch  of  shawls  which  had  been 
hastily  provided,  put  his  hand  on  her  heart.  As 
he  did  so,  and  felt  a  feeble  flutter,  like  a  dying 
bird's  wing,  her  large  dark  eyes  opened  languidly, 
and  fixed  on  his  a  look  of  childish  awe  and  grati- 
tude. It  was  a  look  that  a  sinking  soul  might 
cast  on  a  rescuing  angel,  and  it  went  to  the 
marrow  of  Mr.  Tyrawley's  bones,  and  had  the 
effect  of  making  him  feel  more  than  usually 
unangelic.  So  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  studied 
coolness,  still  rather  panting  from  his  immersion: 

"She's  all  right,  but  you  had  better  get  her 
home.  Let  one  of  these  beggars  run  for  a  fly." 

He  could  not  remove  his  hat,  because  the  sea 
had  saved  him  that  trouble.  He  bowed  his  hand- 
some head,  with  that  graceful  and  distinguished 
courtesy  which  caused  the  colonel  of  the  local 
volunteers  to  say  that  Tyrawley  was  the  finest 
gentleman,  as  well  as  the  biggest  rascal,  going; 
and,  turning  away,  pushed  through  the  crowd, 


A    MAN    OF   SIN  5 

who  were  admiring  his  valor  and  pitying  his  wet- 
ness. But  a  man,  deputed  by  the  girl's  mother, 
rushed  after  him  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"I  say,  Mrs.  St.  Just — that's  the  mother  of  the 
young  lady  you  saved — wants  your  card,  that  she 
may  write  and  thank  you." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  murmured  something  like  an 
oath,  as  the  admiring  crowd  swarmed  round  him 
afresh,  but  even  in  that  trying  moment  habitual 
prudence  triumphed,  and  he  extricated  a  soppy 
piece  of  pasteboard  from  a  damp  pocket-book, 
and  once  more  shaking  off  his  admirers,  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way  with  a  rapid  though  not  very 
assured  step. 

The  spectacle  of  a  gentleman  in  fashionable 
morning  costume,  bareheaded,  ajnd  dripping  like 
a  sea-god,  being  unusual  even  in  Claretown, 
which  is  accustomed  to  eccentricities,  Mr.  Tyraw- 
ley had  some  difficulty  in  eluding  public  esteem, 
but  eventually,  getting  rid  of  the  last  small  boy 
by  a  scowl  of  peculiar  atrocity,  he  made  his  way 
through  back-  and  by-streets,  ever  upward,  till 
he  attained  a  small  and  desolate  terrace,  the  very 
ragged  fringe  of  the  meanest  suburb  of  Clare- 
town,  where  the  wind,  sweeping  from  the  downs, 
cut  like  a  knife,  and  the  autumn  mists  lay  low 
and  chill — a  terrace  whose  immediate  outlook 
was  a  patch  of  turnips  and  a  brickfield. 

Stopping  at  No.  17  (at  Nos.  18,  19,  20  the 
builder  had  lost  heart,  and  left  them  to  moulder 
unconcluded),  Mr.  Tyrawley  applied  a  latch-key 


6  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  entered  a  very  narrow,  oil-clothed  passage, 
where  he  was  confronted  by  his  landlady — a  short, 
pale,  middle-aged  woman  in  black,  with  a  figure 
like  a  packing-case,  and  a  pair  of  strange,  vision- 
ary gray  eyes.  She  emerged,  however,  from  her 
vision  sufficiently  to  glance  from  her  drenched 
lodger  to  the  stair-carpet — which  looked  as  if  any 
sort  of  water  would  have  benefited  it — and  re- 
marked that  he  was  wet. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Higson,"  he  replied.  "  The  sea 
is  wet,  and  I  have  been  there." 

"  'The wicked,'"  said  Mrs.  Higson,  "  'flee  when 
no  man  pursueth.'" 

"In  this  case,"  said  he,  "the  wicked  was 
pursuing,  not  fleeing.  I  went  after  a  young 
lady." 

She  shut  her  lips  with  a  short  nod,  condemna- 
tory but  acquiescent. 

"Poor  thing  !" 

"  Oh,  it  was  for  her  good,"  said  he.  "  Unless 
you  consider  it  a  good  thing  to  be  drowned." 

"  That,"  she  replied,  "depends  on  the  person, 
and  their  state." 

"  For  a  man  of  sin  like  me,  I  suppose,  it  would 
be  very  bad,  as  hastening  the  inevitable." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Tyrawley." 

"But  how  about  your  respected  husband, 
Mrs.  Higson,  who  has  been,  to  my  knowledge, 
drunk  for  two  nights,  and  yet  is  a  Little  Elijah?" 

"Mr.  Higson,"  said  she  with  decision,  "is 
selected  ;  therefore,  he  is  all  right." 


A    MAN   OF    SIN 


"Our  choice  selected,  three  a  penny,"  mur- 
mured the  lodger,  whose  teeth  were  beginning  to 
chatter  with  cold.  "  Now,  my  dear  woman,  even 
men  of  sin  catch  cold.  Let  me  go  upstairs,  will 
you  ? " 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  said  she,  "going  into 
the  back-kitchen,  I'll  bring  you  a  change  there. 
Salt  water  spoils  the  carpets." 

Even  the  boldest  scoffer,  with  a  consciousness 
of  unpaid  rent,  shrinks  from  the  wrath  of  his 
landlady.  Tyrawley  went  meekly  to  the  dank 
and  stony  little  retreat  prescribed,  and  there 
made  a  shivering  toilet,  and  looked  thereafter  so 
blue  and  pinched  that  Mrs.  Higson,  with  a  touch 
of  human  feeling,  invited  him  to  come  and  warm 
himself  by  the  kitchen  fire,  while  she  hung  his 
drenched  clothes  at  a  prudent  distance  from  it, 
and  he  looked  ruefully  on. 

"Awful  nuisance!"  said  he.  "Bother  saving 
one's  fellow-creatures !  " 

Then  he  thought  of  the  little  fluttering  pulse 
under  his  hand,  and  the  big,  dark  blue  eyes, 
which  looked  such  adoring  reverence  on  his  most 
unworthy  self,  and  his  heart  smote  him,  and  he 
added: 

"  But  she  was  only  a  child,  and  probably,  Mrs. 
Higson,  not  selected." 

"Most  likely  not,"  said  Mrs.  Higson,  spread- 
ing his  coat  on  the  back  of  a  chair;  "the  Little 
Latter  End  Elijahs  are  few  and  feeble  as  yet." 

"Mr.    Higson,"     murmured    the   incorrigible 


8  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Tyrawley,  "is  certainly  the  latter;  but  I  gather 
that,  if  you  are  a  Little  Latter  End  Elijah,  you 
may — excuse  a  worldly  proverb — jump  over  gates 
of  sobriety,  and  so  on,  without  any  unpleasant 
results;  whereas,  if  you're  not,  you  must  not 
even  look  through  them." 

"Just  so,"  she  replied  composedly.  "But  I 
ought  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Tyrawley,  that  that  shirt 
I  have  just  brought  you  is  the  only  one  you 
now  have  that  is  not  ragged,  and  the  man  called 
to-day  for  the  money  for  new-soling  your  boots 
which  you  promised  him  last  week,  and " 

Poor  Tyrawley  writhed  a  little  at  this  piece  of 
feminine  retaliation. 

"All  right.  I  know,"  he  said  peevishly. 
"  Now  I'm  dry  enough  for  that  carpet,  I  think 
I'll  go  upstairs.  My  ducking,  or  something,  has 
given  me  a  racking  headache." 

He  rose,  but  the  landlady's  back  being  turned 
for  a  moment,  his  eye — it  was  the  eye  of  the 
falcon  or  the  fox,  or  any  creature  that  lives  by 
preying  on  its  fellows,  soft  and  languid  as  it 
appeared — perceived  something  twisted  round  a 
button  of  the  wet  coat.  It  was  two  or  three 
long,  fair  hairs,  so  fine  that  only  such  an  eye 
could  have  detected  them. 

What  part  of  this  reprobate's  schemes  was  it 
that  necessitated  the  rapid  and  secret  seizure  of 
that  sentimental  memento  by  those  long,  taper 
fingers  of  gentlemanly  whiteness  and  predatory 
flexibility  ? 


A    MAN    OF    SIN  9 

When  he  was  alone  upstairs,  he  wound  his  prize 
round  his  finger,  placed  it  in  an  envelope,  append- 
ing the  date  methodically,  and  put  it  away  in  the 
secret  drawer  of  a  much-battered  Russia  leather 
writing-case;  having  done  which,  he  flung  him- 
self back  in  a  low  chair,  as  luxurious  as  could  be 
expected  for  four  shillings  and  sixpence  a  week, 
and  laughed  a  bitter,  silent  laugh  ;  then  took  a 
hard  pull  at  his  pipe,  and,  after  a  restless  turn  or 
two  in  his  narrow  den,  went  down  stairs  again 
and  out. 

"  Mr.  Tyrawley,"  said  Mrs.  Higson,  hearing 
his  step,  and  perhaps  smitten  with  womanly  re- 
morse, to  which  even  the  Little  Latter  End 
Elijahs,  albeit  a  self-justifying  sect,  are  not  alto- 
gether impervious,  "you've  got  a  little  tea  left 
in  the  cupboard,  and  I  have  water  on  the  boil. 
Won't  you  have  a  cup  before  you  go  out  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks.  One  advantage  being  half 
drowned  has,  in  common  with  the  complete  proc- 
ess, is  that  you  don't  want  any  thing  to  eat  or 
drink  afterward.  And  the  exchequer  is  low, 
Mrs.  Higson;  I'm  going  out  to  fill  it." 

She  watched  him  from  the  kitchen  window  as 
he  lounged  down  the  street. 

"And  what  you  do  to  fill  it,"  she  said,  "passes 
me.  And  as  to  how  you  got  half-drowned — it  may 
be  true,  or  it  may  not.  If  you're  like  Saul, 
higher  by  the  head  and  shoulders  in  stature  than 
most,  it  strikes  me  you're  uncommonly  like  him 
in  being  lower  than  most  in  your  principles." 


10  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

It  is  a  just  retribution  on  a  scoundrel  that 
when,  by  chance,  he  does  a  good  thing,  peculiarly 
bad  designs  are  sure  to  be  attributed  to  him,  just 
as  a  good  man  who  makes  a  slip  is  usually  for- 
given on  the  score  of  previous  good  character. 
It  is  only  in  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  the  Book 
of  the  Prophet  Ezekiel,  and  similar  pages,  that 
the  way  of  judging  is  "equal." 


CHAPTER  II 
HIS   AFFECTIONATE   FRIEND 

MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  destination  was  a  certain 
public-house  and  billiard-room  in  the  nasty  part 
of  Claretown.  He  entered  the  bar,  imbibed  the 
very  cheapest  form  of  liquid  refreshment  with 
an  unconcealed  grimace,  and,  nodding  his  head 
toward  the  first  floor,  enquired  : 

"  Any  one  up  there  ?  " 

The  landlord  grinned,  as  landlords  do  grin  at 
the  discomfiture  of  customers  whose  taste  for 
liquor  is  limited.  "Nobody,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  mounted  the  dingy  stair  with  a 
slow  and  disgusted  step.  Further  discomfiture 
met  him  in  the  person  of  a  strange  marker,  for 
with  the  last  one  he  had  had  a  friendly  under- 
standing. 

"Oh,  new  face,"  said  he,  coolly  looking  the 
marker  over.  "Where's  the  other  fellow,  then  ?  " 

"Sloped,  sir,  with  some  cash.  They're  after 
him,  I  believe." 

"  Poor  devil  !  "  said  Mr.  Tyrawley  thought- 
fully, as  he  slowly  removed  his  coat,  selected  a 
cue,  and  chalked  it. 

The  new   marker   stood   watching   him  as  he 


12  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

knocked  about  the  balls,  making  some  brilliant 
strokes  and  missing  others.  -  Presently  the  man 
turned  his  back  to  rub  a  cloth  over  the  dusty 
window,  and  then  Mr.  Tyrawley  began  to  play 
with  more  purpose,  finally  settling  down  to 
patient  practice  of  a  difficult  cannon. 

As  he  stood  up  for  a  moment  to  rest,  he  caught 
the  marker's  eye  fixed  keenly  upon  him.  They 
looked  hard  at  each  other  for  a  moment.  The 
faintest  ghost  of  a  smile  stole  across  the  man's 
countenance,  but  Tyrawley  remained  quite  un- 
moved. 

"Play  on  this  table  pretty  often,  I  reckon; 
don't  you,  sir?"  said  the  man  very  civilly. 

"  Pretty  often,"  said  Tyrawley.     "  Why  ? " 

"Seem  to  know  it,  that's  all." 

Their  eyes  met  again.  The  marker  strolled  to 
the  window,  whistling  under  his  breath,  and  Mr. 
Tyrawley  stroked  his  mustache  and  deliberated. 
He  played  a  little  more,  and  then  began  to  put 
on  his  coat  The  marker  came  obsequiously  to 
help  him,  during  which  operation  Tyrawley  re- 
marked casually: 

"  D'ye  know,  that  last  man  was  really  a  good 
fellow.  I  often  come  here,  and  I  always  remem- 
bered him" — a  slight  pause — "when  I  was  in 
funds.  Thanks." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  departed,  viewed  not  without 
admiration  by  the  marker. 

"You're  a  cool  hand,    and   no   mistake,"  he 


HIS   AFFECTIONATE   FRIEND  13 

muttered.  "A  real  toff,  got  into  trouble  and 
cast  off  by  your  friends,  I  expect.  Play  a  pretty 
game,  too — oh,  a  pretty,  pretty  game." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  now  made  his  way  to  his  Club  in 
the  more  fashionable  part  of  Claretown.  It  was 
not  the  Club — he  was  wont  to  laugh  and  say  that 
the  company  there  was  too  expensive  for  a 
beggar — but  it  was  sufficiently  fashionable,  and 
more  than  sufficiently  fast.  Careful  fathers 
objected  to  their  sons  becoming  members,  and 
mothers  deprecated  it  as  a  haunt  of  detrimentals, 
and  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  one  of  the  best-known 
figures  there.  There  were  hawks  for  company, 
and  pigeons  to  be  plucked  in  a  strictly  gentle- 
manly manner.  Tyrawley  was  a  popular  man 
because  he  was  always  languidly  amiable  and 
humorous,  however  low  his  exchequer. 

On  his  way  there  he  stopped  at  a  small  baker's 
shop,  where  stale  rolls  at  a  halfpenny  tempted 
the  hungry,  and,  after  plumbing  his  pocket, 
bought  one  and  ate  it,  leaning  against  the 
counter,  to  the  puzzled  admiration  of  the  woman 
in  charge. 

The  last  crust  was  between  that  delicate, 
predatory  finger  and  thumb,  when  a  stray  street 
dog  pattered  in  and  looked  up  ^whimpering  in  his 
face. 

"Are  you  hungry,  old  chap  ?"  said  Tyrawley. 

The  dog  replied  that  he  was,  rather,  which  he 
meant  in  a  slang  sense.  So  Tyrawley  flipped  the 
morsel  to  him,  and  left  the  shop.  The  wind 


14  THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

seemed  a  shade  less  bitter,  and  the  memory 
of  the  beefsteak-pudding  less  intrusive,  after 
that. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  Club,  young  Poyntz 
(Poyntz  &  Co.,  Bacon  Merchants)  challenged 
him  to  a  game  of  billiards.  Poyntz  was  an 
obnoxious  sandy-haired  youngster,  plump  as  his 
sire's  pigs,  whose  boast  was  that  he  could  make 
himself  at  home  anywhere,  and  whose  manners 
and  customs  aggravated  the  calmest  tempers. 

But  a  fox  must  eat  a  crow  if  he  cannot  procure 
a  pheasant;  so  Tyrawley  smiled  resignation, 
which  Poyntz  interpreted  as  rapture,  and  they 
took  off  their  coats  and  played,  presenting  as 
striking  a  contrast  as  a  thoroughbred  plater  and 
a  useful  mule. 

But  the  spectators,  who  knew  Tyrawley's 
form, — there  were  a  good  many  men  in  the  room, 
for  the  afternoon  was  wettish, — began  to  open 
their  eyes  as  the  latter  missed  stroke  after  stroke, 
and  only  saved  the  game  through  the  fatuous 
idiocy  of  Poyntz's  play. 

"  Have  another  game,  dear  boy,"  said  the 
latter.  "  Nearly  had  you,  eh  ?  About  equal,  I 
think;  "  and  he  poked  Tyrawley  in  the  side  with 
his  cue  with  elegant  facetiousness. 

Every  one  was  surprised  when  the  latter  hesi- 
tated a  little.  Perhaps  Poyntz  poked  too  hard, 
or  perhaps  a  ducking  in  the  sea  and  a  halfpenny 
roll  are  not  the  best  preparations  for  cool  and 
scientific  play. 


HIS   AFFECTIONATE    FRIEND  15 

"  Come,  I  say,  give  a  man  his  revenge,"  urged 
Poyntz. 

The  lookers-on  chuckled  as  he  rushed  on  his 
doom;  and  Tyrawley,  taking  up  his  cue  with  a 
slight  effort,  drawled : 

"All  right." 

He  played  a  stroke  or  two,  failed. in  the  simplest 
of  cannons,  laughed  faintly,  and  dropped  on  one 
of  the  red  leather  settees. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  young  man,"  he  said.  "  I've 
got  a  stitch  in  my  side — indigestion  or  something." 

"  Been  lunching  ?  "  suggested  somebody. 

"Just  so,"  said  Tyrawley,  with  a  sarcasm  of 
which  his  hearers  were  not  aware. 

Poyntz  swelled  out  his  chest,  and  remarked 
that  he  was  just  getting  into  good  form,  and  he 
did  not  like  to  see  fellows  backing  out  of  things. 

"  If  Tyrawley  doesn't  murder  that  fellow,  I 
shall,"  said  Waters,  adjutant  of  the  local  volun- 
teers. "  He's  really  too  much  of  a  cad." 

But  to  murder  the  goose,  or  gander,  which 
produces  golden  eggs  is  not  the  habit  of  gentle- 
men of  Mr.  Tyrawley's  profession,  so  he  said 
with  meekness: 

"I'll  go  on  presently,  old  man,"  and  held  his 
side  hard. 

Here,  however,  a  man,  who  had  been  standing 
in  the  background,  taking  in  the  scene  with  pro- 
fessional keenness,  intervened.  He  was  a  sport- 
ing doctor,  named  MacAdam. 

"No,  you  won't,"  he  said,  seating  himself  on 


l6  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

the  settee,  blighting  Poyntz  parenthetically  with 
a  growl,  "  Shut  up  !  No,  you  won't,"  he  re- 
peated. 

"Why?"  enquired  Tyrawley,  with  a  weak 
defiance. 

"Because,"  said  the  doctor  deliberately, 
"you've  got  cold  shivers,  a  touch  of  fever,  and — 
unless  I  am  much  mistaken — a  threatening  of 
pleurisy.  You'll  go  home  to  bed  like  a  decent 
chap,  in  a  cab  which  I  shall  send  for,  and  send 
for  your  family  physician.  Here,  Poyntz,  hand 
over  what  you  owe,  and  we'll  pack  him  off." 

Mr.  Tyrawley's  face  lengthened. 

"  Sha'n't  go,"  he  said,  writhing  peevishly.  "I 
don't  believe  in  physicians." 

Then  he  looked  up  with  a  smile  into  Mac- 
Adam's  face,  to  take  out  the  sting  of  his  remark. 
He  was  an  amiable  person,  and  would  have  loved 
his  kind-instead  of  preying  on  them,  had  circum- 
stances permitted.  Even  a  Bengal  tiger,  when 
fully  and  regularly  fed,  has  been  known  to  be- 
come sweet-tempered. 

"I'm  not  joking,"  said  MacAdam,  as  Poyntz 
sulkily  placed  in  his  outstretched  palm  sundry 
half-crowns,  whose  chink  filled  Mr.  Tyrawley 
with  most  unheroic  satisfaction. 

"Here  you  are,  old  man.  Now,  Joe,"  turning 
to  the  marker,  "  order  a  cab,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tyrawley,  with  gasping  decision, 
getting  on  his  feet.  "I  shall  walk.  The  air  will 
do  me  good." 


HIS   AFFECTIONATE    FRIEND  17 

"You  can't,  man,"  said  MacAdam.  "Air! — 
an  east  wind  like  a  Pathan's  knife.  But,"  he 
added,  another  aspect  of  the  case  striking  him 
as  he  observed  Tyrawley's  welcome  of  Poyntz's 
half-crowns,  "my  trap's  at  the  door,  and  I'm 
going  your  way  [which  was  a  fiction],  I'll  drive 
you,  if  you  like." 

Tyrawley  would  fain  have  refused.  He  had  no 
wish  that  anybody  at  the  Club  should  become 
acquainted  with  Alonzo  Terrace  and  the  ameni- 
ties of  his  landlady.  But  he  felt  he  couldn't  walk, 
and  a  fly  was  out  of  the  question  with  the  possible 
expense  of  illness  before  him;  so  he  murmured, 
"  Thanks,"  and  subsided  on  the  settee. 

As  MacAdam  turned  from  the  window  to 
announce  that  the  trap  would  be  round  as  soon 
as  the  mare  could  be  persuaded  to  trot  on  four 
legs,  instead  of  standing  on  two,  a  waiter  brought 
in  a  note  to  Tyrawley.  It  had  a  large  blue 
and  red  monogram,  and  was  addressed  in  a  wild 
female  hand. 

"Messenger  waits,  please  sir,"  said  the  waiter. 
His  eye  was  benignant  as  it  rested  on  Tyrawley, 
who  never  swore  at  him  or  chaffed  him — as  the 
eye  of  one  who  conveys  good  tidings.  He  knew 
the  look  of  a  hungry  man  and  the  outward  aspect 
of  an  invitation  to  dinner. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  fervid  petition  from  "  M.  A. 

St.  Just"  that  he  would  come  and  dine  with  them 

quietly  that  evening,  to  be  thanked,  "though  he 

could  never  be  thanked  enough,"  etc.,  etc.,  "and 

2 


l8  THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

if  not  that  evening,  would  he  name  any  evening, 
and  she  was  ever  gratefully  his." 

A  little  note  was  enclosed,  written  in  a  school- 
girl hand  : 

"DEAR  MR.  TYRAWLEY: 

"  Mother  says  I  must  write  and  thank  you  for 
perilling  your  life  to  save  Bertie's  and  mine;  but 
I  can  never,  never  do  that  properly.  Only,  if 
there  is  ever  any  thing  I  can  do  to  show  you  what 
I  feel  about  it,  please  let  me  know. 

"I  am, 
"Your  affectionate  friend, 

"NINA  ST.  JUST." 

Now,  Mr.  Tyrawley  had  various  interested 
friends,  and  admiring  friends,  and  had  had  even 
impassioned  friends;  but  he  had  never  had  an 
affectionate  friend.  That  adjective  belongs  to 
home  and  tenderness,  and  other  things  with 
which  a  polite  adventurer  has  nothing  to  do; 
and  it  went  through  him  with  a  sense  of  sudden 
need  and  yearning. 

But  a  man  with  pleurisy  hanging  over  him  can- 
not accept  dinner  invitations;  so  he  disgustedly 
asked  for  pen  and  paper,  and  wrote  : 

"DEAR  MRS.  ST.  JUST: 

"I  am  very  sorry  I  cannot  avail  myself  of 
your  kind  invitation,  as  I  am  leaving  Claretown 
for  a  few  days.  On  my  return  I  shall  hope  to 
do  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  to  see  that  your 


HIS   AFFECTIONATE    FRIEND  19 

daughter  and  Master  Bertie  are  none  the  worse 
for  their  dip.  Pray  thank  Miss  St.  Just  for  her 
note.  I  am  quite  overwhelmed  at  her  gratitude 
for  such  a  trifle. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"I.  TYRAWLEY." 

"Ready,  my  son?"  said  the  doctor,  who  had 
watched  his  rather  faltering  scrawl. 

"Oh,  yes!  bother  you — thank  you,"  said 
Tyrawley,  following  the  little  short,  stout  doctor 
down  stairs.  "A  man  ought  never  to  be  seedy 
who  has  nobody  to  coddle  him;  he  becomes  such 
a  nuisance  to  himself  and  his  chums." 

"Where  to,  old  man  ?"  said  MacAdam,  as  the 
mare  executed  her  usual  prologue.  He  had 
lowered  his  voice.  Tyrawley  felt  grateful. 

"  17  Alonzo  Terrace.  It  is  beyond  Down 
Road,  on  the  extreme  edge  of  nowhere." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  doctor  cheerily.  "  Miss 
Fireworks  will  have  you  there  in  no  time;  there's 
nothing  she  adores  like  a  long  spin." 

It  was  a  long  spin.  Much  conversation  was 
impossible,  between  the  eccentricities  of  Fire- 
works and  the  breathlessness  of  her  passenger, 
who  sat  with  a  very  pale  face,  grasping  his  side 
at  every  bound  of  the  trap.  Little  MacAdam 
tucked  the  rug  round  his  legs  once  or  twice,  and, 
as  the  mare  at  last  slackened  her  pace,  looked  at 
him  with  good-natured  pity. 

"Now,  look  here,"  he  said,  "you  go  straight 


20  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

to  bed,  and  let  somebody  clap  you  on  a  big 
mustard-plaster,  and  another  after  that — till  the 
pain  abates.  Keep  warm  and  quiet,  and  take 
slops,  and  then  you'll  be  all  right.  I'll  come 
round  and  see  you  to-morrow.  What's  amiss?" 

"  Mac  Adam,  I  can't." 

"  Can't  what  ?  Take  slops  ?  You  must,  man, 
or  you'll  be  in  a  regular  fever." 

"  Oh,  I  can  take  any  thing  I  can  get;  but, 
MacAdam,  I'm  not  in  a  position " 

"Oh,  hang  that!  "  said  the  doctor  hastily.  "I 
come  as  a  friend — that's  understood." 

The  helplessness  of  illness  was  upon  Tyrawley, 
and  he  could  not  fight,  so  he  said  faintly: 

"  Thanks,  old  man,"  and  collapsed  on  the  seat. 

He  got  down  with  difficulty  when  Fireworks 
permitted  it,  and  was  presently  absorbed  into 
the  dark  passage  of  No.  17,  and  was  coldly  met 
by  the  stony  and  reproachful  glance  of  Mrs.  Hig- 
son,  who  foresaw  much  trouble  and  small  profit. 

"It  seems,"  he  said  meekly,  when,  later  on, 
he  was  experiencing  the  tortures  of  an  ill-made 
and  ill-applied  mustard-plaster  at  her  hands, 
"almost  a  pity  I  wasn't  drowned  this  morning, 
Mrs.  Higson,  doesn't  it  ?  We  should  both  have 
been  spared  this  annoyance." 

"  Every  thing  is  a  mystery,"  she  retorted  tartly, 
"  including  who's  to  pay  for  all  you'll  want  while 
you  are  ill." 

Tyrawley  bit  his  lip,  and  felt  unequal  to  further 
witticisms  after  this  snub. 


CHAPTER   III 
A    SORT    OF   ISHMAEL 

MACADAM  came  next  day,  and  found  his  patient 
hollow-eyed  and  quiescent  from  pain,  bound 
hand  and  foot  in  the  iron  thrall  of  Mrs.  Higson, 
whose  nursing  was  of  a  distinctly  penal  character. 

She  resented  his  faint  jokes;  and  the  insinuat- 
ing gaze  of  those  eloquent,  deep-blue  eyes,  which 
had  wheedled  so  many  middle-aged  female  hearts 
out  of  their  better  judgment,  merely  aggravated 
her.  She  would  have  preferred  him  to  bewail 
and  even  to  blaspheme,  as  more  in  accordance 
with  his  character;  but  want  of  pluck  was  not 
among  his  sins,  though  Mrs.  Higson,  armed  with 
a  raging  mustard-plaster,  might  have  appalled  the 
bravest. 

So  things  went  on  for  a  day  or  two.  Then 
came  a  faint  change  for  the  better.  Finally,  one 
bitter  afternoon,  MacAdam,  coming  in,  found  his 
patient  up,  shivering  over  a  very  small  cindery 
fire,  clad  in  an  ancient  silk  dressing-gown,  the 
remnant  of  some  day  of  extravagant  sunshine. 

It  was  a  wretched  little  room,  imperfectly 
carpeted,  curtainless,  and  visited  from  the  turnip- 
field  by  the  four  winds.  The  bed  was  unmade, 


22  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

the  furniture  undusted,  and  last  night's  basin  of 
gruel  standing  congealed  on  the  mantelpiece. 

The  doctor  made  a  face  when  he  saw  it. 
"Hallo  !"  he  said,  "is  this  that  woman's  idea 
of  nourishment  ?  No  wonder  you  look  all  eyes 
and  bones." 

"Her  one  idea,"  said  Tyrawley.  "Oh,"  he 
added  fervently,  "it's  a  mercy  to  be  up!  She 
always  puts  every  thing  just  out  of  my  reach.  I 
believe  she  wanted  to  make  me  swear,  that  she 
might  institute  unfavorable  comparisons  between 
me  and  her  husband,  who  is  always  drunk,  and 
in  that  state  talks  Scripture  in  a  way  that  makes 
even  a  reprobate  like  me  sick." 

"What  are  they?"  said  MacAdam,  drawing 
a  chair  to  the  fire,  and  poking  it  recklessly. 
"Hardshell  Baptists,  Ranters — what?" 

"No,  neither.  They  have  a  tea-caddy  which 
they  call  a  chapel,  in  which  nine  persons,  I  think, 
meet  to  discuss  the  faults  of  their  neighbors,  and 
call  themselves  '  Little  Elijahs,'  because  that 
prophet  was,  I  believe,  a  reformer.  I  had  a 
Baptist  landlady  once,"  said  Tyrawley  pen- 
sively, "but  she  was  a  decent  woman,  though  I 
didn't  treat  her  well;  and  I  lived  eight  months 
with  Ranters,  who  were  rea|ly  awfully  good  folks. 
The  husband  used  to  talk  to  me  quite  paternally 
about  my  sins,  and  the  wife  made  me  puddings 
which  she  could  ill  afford,  having  five  olive- 
branches,  because,  she  said,  I  looked  as  if  I 
didn't  get  enough  to  eat," 


A    SORT   OF    ISHMAEL  23 

"Did  you?"  said  the  doctor.  "Excuse  my 
curiosity;  it's  professional." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  didn't;  fellows  like  me  alter- 
nately fast  and  feast.  But  I  was  going  to  tell 
you  about  my  Methodist  landlady.  She  was  a 
good  soul.  She  nursed  me  through  an  attack 
like  this,  and  absolutely  wept  when  I  was  in 
danger.  She  and  I  actually  ran  the  house 
together  for  six  weeks-  after  her  husband  had 
died  and  left  her  with  five  small  children." 

"How  was  that?"  said  the  doctor.  He  was 
observing,  unobserved,  sundry  small  details  of 
his  patient's  condition. 

"  It  was  this  way.  She  had  an  offer  of  work 
at  the  house  of  some  people  she  had  been  servant 
to,  I  think,  and  could  not  leave  the  children, 
although  the  eldest  was  a  little  mother  of  eleven. 
So  I  looked  after  matters,  under  the  little 
mother's  superintendence.  I  did,  upon  my 
honor  !  I  sometimes  even  performed  their  toi- 
lets, more  or  less  incorrectly,  and  it  was  quite 
an  edifying  spectacle  to  see  me  pack  them  off  to 
Sunday-school,  and  then  go  indoors  and  cook 
the  dinner." 

"You  must  tell  me  some  more  another  time," 
said  the  doctor.  "But  now  I  want  to  tell  you 
something." 

"Something  unpleasant,  I  suppose,"  said 
Tyrawley.  "  Fire  away  !  "  and  he  looked  him  in 
the  eyes  with  a  faint  defiance. 

"You    need    not  get    your    temper    up,    old 


24  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

chap,"  said  MacAdam.  "It's  no  offence,  but 
rather  a  pity,  as  things  are.  Are  you  aware 
that  your  lungs  are  slightly  affected  ?  I  don't 
mean  this  present  attack,  but  the  trouble  is  of 
some  standing." 

"Dangerous  ?  "  asked  the  other  quickly. 

"No,  not  at  present,  but  you'll  have  to  look 
after  yourself,  or  it  may  become  so." 

Tyrawley  looked  rather  forlorn.  "That 
means,  I  suppose,"  said  he  sulkily,  "that  I 
shall  eventually  gravitate  to  the  workhouse — 
'  Rattle  his  bones  over  the  stones,  a  trouble- 
some pauper  whom  nobody  owns.'  Eh  ?" 

"Oh,  bosh!  nonsense!  Don't  be  an  ass;  'tis 
nothing  like  that,"  said  the  doctor  hastily. 
"  Go  abroad,  if  you  can,  for  the  winter." 

"What  would  you  think,"  enquired  Tyrawley, 
"of  a  two-hundred-guinea  steam  yacht  and  a 
villa  in  the  Riviera  ?" 

MacAdam  grunted. 

"Seriously,"  continued  Tyrawley,  "I  know 
I'm  a  bit  touched  in  the  wind,  in  consequence  of 
hardships  I  underwent  in  my  interesting  infancy." 

"Parents  died  young?" 

"My  mother,"  replied  Tyrawley,  "was  so 
disgusted,  poor  thing,  at  the  first  sight  she  had 
of  me,  that  she  left  the  world  immediately  I 
entered  it,  having  furnished  me  with  an  appro- 
priate name.  What  do  you  think  it  was  ?  " 

"  Isaac,  or  Ishmael  ?  "  said  the  doctor.  "  I've 
noticed  you've  signed  an  'I.'' 


A    SORT    OF    ISHMAEL  25 

"Infelix.  There  was  a  cheerful  welcome  for 
a  youngster;  but,  inasmuch  as  nobody  in  partic- 
ular ever  called  me  by  my  Christian  name,  it 
does  not  matter.  Well,  I  was  carted  about  from 
lodging  to  lodging  by  my  father,  who  was  an 
airy  rover,  and  experienced  some  startling  transi- 
tions— from  being  set  on  a  dinner-table  in  blue 
velvet  raiment  to  sing  music-hall  songs,  to 
cleaning  knives  and  boots  in  a  back  kitchen,  as 
some  equivalent  for  my  board." 

"And  then?" 

"Then,  at  the  ripe  age  of  seven,  I  was  sent 
to  a  cheap  school,  where  I  improved  myself  con- 
siderably in  the  art  of  pitch-and-toss,  in  which 
I  had  already  attained  some  proficiency  at  street 
corners." 

"Oh,"  said  MacAdam  dryly,  "you  begun  it 
then,  did  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Tyrawley  coolly,  "I  begun  it 
then.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do;  I'd  no 
pocket-money." 

There  was  a  slight  pause.  The  two  men 
looked  hard  at  one  another. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "I've  always  said  I 
admired  your  play — never  saw  any  thing  that 
wasn't  perfectly  fair  and  square." 

"  You  never  did." 

MacAdam  turned  his  gaze  on  the  fire  and 
whistled.  "Go  on,"  he  presently  said,  "  though, 
'pon  my  soul!  I  don't  know  why  you  tell  me  all 
this;  it's  no  business  of  mine." 


26  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"A  dog,"  said  Tyrawley,  "that  has  been 
much  kicked  seldom  forgets  any  kind  hand 
that  has  patted  him.  That's  why,  old  man." 
He  laid  his  white,  thin  fingers  on  MacAdam's 
knee. 

"Oh,  bother — stow  that!  What  else  on  earth 
could  a  man  do  ?  But  continue — you  stopped  at 
the  cheap  school " 

"Where  my  schooling  was  paid  for  by  an 
uncle,  who  was  a  bigoted  Catholic,  and  an 
uncommonly  sharp  business  man.  When  I  was 
fourteen  he  gave  me  two  alternatives — one,  to 
turn  Catholic,  and  errand-boy  in  his  office;  the 
other,  two  years'  more  schooling  at  a  better 
school,  and  then  to  be  cast  adrift.  I  chose  the 
latter.  On  leaving  school  I  got  a  clerkship,  and 
might  have  drudged  my  way  up,  I  think,  if  my 
sire  had  not  been  seized  with  a  sudden  fit  of 
paternal  yearning,  or  struck  with  my  possible 
usefulness;  for  I  was,  I  am  told,  a  very  picture 
of  youth  and  innocence.  He  took  me  out  with 
him  to  his  haunts  every  night." 

"What  was  his  profession?"  asked  Mac- 
Adam. 

"My  own,"  said  Tyrawley,  with  a  shrug. 
"But,"  he  added  impartially,  "I  think  he  was 
a  shade  worse  than  I  am.  However,  after  mak- 
ing my  youthful  ideas  shoot  most  luxuriantly, 
there  was  one  day  a  most  awful  smash."  He 
paused  and  looked  gloomily  into  the  embers. 
"  I  lost  my  clerkship  and  very  nearly  my 


A    SORT    OF   ISHMAEL  27 

character,  and  in  future  I  resolved  to  go  to  the 
dogs  my  own  way.  Shortly  after,  my  father 
married  a  West  Indian  widow,  who  endowed 
him  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  on  the  condition 
that  he  should  part  with  that  young  villain  his 
son.  I  needn't  say  he  sacrificed  me  at  once,  and 
since  then " 

Tyrawley  raised  his  eyebrows  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders  expressively. 

"  You  have  looked  after  yourself  ?  "  said  Mac- 
Adam. 

"With  more  or  less  success,  for  sixteen 
years." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  any  chums  ? " 

"No;  I'm  a  sort  of  Ishmael,  under  the  surface. 
Fellows  like  Jack  Lark  I  can't  stand.  He  and  his 
set  would  be  friendly  enough  with  me,  but  some- 
how I  can't  stick  them,  though  I  know  it's 
absurd;  and,  of  course,  I  know  well  enough 
the  best  men  at  the  Club  would  fight  shy  of  me 
as  a  friend.  Of  course,  in  your  profession, 
old  man,  it  doesn't  matter  what  sort  of  queer 
characters  you  pick  up  with.  Well,  there's 
my  interesting  narrative.  This,"  said  Mr. 
Tyrawley,  looking  round,  "supplies  the  moral." 

Dr.  MacAdam  was  sorry  for  the  reckless 
sinner,  who  looked  so  ill,  and  coughed  so  hard, 
but  he  could  offer  no  improving  comments.  He 
was  too  conscious  of  the  need  of  improvement 
in  himself. 

"Mean    to    do    this   always?"    he    enquired, 


28  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

after  a  short  silence,  during  which  Tyrawley 
coughed. 

"I  suppose  so,  till  I  end  in  the  hospital,  or 
make  a  hole  in  the  water,  or  get  hurt  in  a 
drunken  row,  or  something." 

"  But  you  don't  drink  ? "  said  the  doctor 
quickly. 

"  No,  and  I  swear  very  little,  and  I  don't  go  in 
for  other  things  much,  unless  I  get  wild,  once  in 
a  way.  Oh,  it's  a  wretched  business  all  through ! " 

"Come,  you  mustn't  get  down  in  the  mouth, 
or  you'll  interfere  with  your  convalescence." 

"Don't  want  to  convalesce,"  said  the  other, 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  "except  for  one 
reason,  which  Mrs.  Higson  would  very  distinctly 
explain  to  you." 

"  You  look  at  things  in  that  way  because  you're 
weak;  you'll  be  as  jolly  as  ever  in  a  day  or  two." 

"Oh,  yes!  jolly  enough,"  replied  Tyrawley 
sarcastically.  "But  I  say,"  he  added,  with  some 
earnestness,  and  a  momentary  glance  toward  his 
writing-case,  where  reposed  in  safety  a  little 
note,  signed  "Your  affectionate  friend,"  "how 
soon  shall  I  be  able  to  go  out  and  make  a  call  or 
two  ? " 

"I  should  think  in  about  a  week,"  said  Mac- 
Adam — "if  you  don't  die  of  that  hag's  gruel 
meanwhile.  I'll  speak  to  her." 

"  No,  don't,  pray.  It's  bad  enough  as  it  is,  and 
I  can  eat  any  thing  that  comes  to  hand  now." 

"All   right,"   said    MacAdam.      "I'll   look  in 


A    SORT    OF    ISHMAEL  29 

again  in  a  day  or  two,  and  my  old  housekeeper, 
who  is  a  genius  at  kickshaws,  shall  bring  you 
something  round," 

"No,  no!"  said  Tyrawley;  but  the  doctor 
merely  said  "Bosh  !  "  and  departed. 

The  week  passed,  and  three  days  tacked  on  to 
it, — in  consequence,  MacAdam  said,  of  "  want  of 
rallying  power," — then  Mr.  Tyrawley  found  him- 
self, one  cold  and  sunny  afternoon,  knocking  at 
the  door  of  one  of  the  biggest  houses  in  the 
biggest  square  in  Claretown. 

"People  evidently  well  off,"  he  said  inwardly, 
as  a  white-waistcoated  and  solemn  butler  admit- 
ted him.  "  Good  for  dinners  and  lunches, 
but  scarcely  worth  that  confounded  attack  of 
pleurisy." 

He  was  pretending  very  hard  that  he  was  act- 
ing on  an  entirely  sordid  motive,  for  he  well 
knew  that  a  man  of  prey  has  no  right  to  emo- 
tions. Nevertheless,  no  eighteen-year-old  victim 
of  calf-love  ever  felt  a  more  sickening  pang  of 
disappointment  than  did  this  polite  impostor 
when,  being  ushered  into  the  big  drawing-room, 
he  found  Mrs.  St.  Just  alone.  She  .overwhelmed 
him  with  renewed  thanks,  assured  him  tt^at  he 
was  looking  frightfully  ill,  and  deplored  it  as  the 
result  of  his  "  heroism  "  (all  in  a  breath).  An 
"h"  or  two  escaped  her  in  the  process,  but 
there  were  signs  of  some  refinement,  as  well  as 
unlimited  wealth,  about  the  room,  and  he  began 
to  persuade  himself — for  your  thoroughbred 


30  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

blackguard  has  a  character  to  keep  up  as  well  as 
the  righteous — that  he  had  known  what  he  was 
doing  all  along. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  was,  he  gathered,  a  widow  with 
two  children,  to  whom  she  was  devoted.  He 
also  learned  that  her  husband  was  of  "high 
family,"  the  "  very  image  of  my  Nina,  whom  you 
so  nobly,"  etc.,  etc.,  and  that  she  herself  had — 
if  it  takes  three  generations  to  make  a  lady — 
scarcely  attained  the  second  stage.  Allusions  to 
"  my  butler,"  "  my  carriage,"  to  her  daughter  as 
"Miss  St.  Just,"  and  to  a  relative  of  whom  she 
appeared  to  stand  in  awe  as  "My  dear  man's 
nephew,"  strengthened  this  impression.  But 
Tyrawley  welcomed  it  as  being  rather  in  favor  of 
future  intimacy. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  evidently  did  not  connaitre >  son 
monde.  He  had  the  manners  of  society,  with  a 
shade  of  soft  deference  superadded,  and — "  Such 
charmin'  looks,  my  child,  and  his  voice  is  as 
sweet  as  a  bell.  But  he's  coming  to  dinner  to- 
morrow, and  you'll  see  for  yourself." 

"I  remember,  mother,"  said  the  tall,  fair- 
haired  Nina,  in  a  low  voice,  while  her  large  eyes 
saw  once  more  that  dazzle  of  whirling  green 
water  among  the  black  piers,  and  the  face  that 
stooped  over  her,  and  seemed  to  give  her  her 
young  life  back. 


CHAPTER  IV 
A    STRANGE   INSPIRATION 

AFTER  that  call  Mr.  Tyrawley  paused  on  the 
parade,  looked  at  the  sea,  and  took  thought,  as  a 
result  of  which  he  proceeded  to  the  billiard-room 
at  the  Club,  cast  a  thoughtful  glance  around,  and 
finally  in  dulcet  accents  invited  Poyntz  to  have 
his  revenge,  which  that  blatant  youth  accepting, 
they  presently  played. 

It  was  a  sad,  yet  a  lovely  sight,  to  see  how 
gently  Tyrawley  conducted  the  victim  to  his 
doom,  as  if,  like  Isaac  Walton's  angler  putting  a 
worm  on  a  fish-hook,  he  loved  him. 

Soothed  by  judicious  flattery,  and  stimulated 
by  faintly  veiled  sarcasm,  Poyntz  played  and 
played;  won,  and  lost,  and  lost,  and  lost.  Men 
stood  round,  admiring,  though  one  or  two  ele- 
vated their  eyebrows  at  the  unequal  strife.  If 
they  and  Poyntz  had  known  how  loud  the  heart 
whose  will  impelled  that  white,  skilful  hand  was 
thumping,  how  anxiously  hope  and  fear  strove 
under  that  cool  exterior,  they  would  have  been 
beyond  measure  astonished. 

When  at  last  Poyntz  sulkily  announced  that  he 
had  had  enough,  his  antagonist,  declining  other 


32  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

invitations,  went  smilingly  away;  but  as  he 
threaded  a  maze  of  back  streets,  he  remarked  to 
that  inner  self  which  receives  so  many  confes- 
sions of  weakness,  "  If  that  little  beggar  had  only 
known  what  an  awful  funk  I  was  in  all  the 
time  !  " 

Then  he  entered  a  small  corner  shop,  and  gave 
back,  to  an  accommodating  friend  a  square  paste- 
board ticket,  supplemented  with  the  spoils  of 
Poyntz;  receiving  in  return,  with  a  light  heart, 
the  dress-clothes  which  were  meant  to  open  the 
doors  of  Cupola  Square  to  him  the  next  evening. 
That  evening  was  like  a  wild  dream  to  Tyrawley, 
in  retrospect,  though  it  began  very  quietly;  a 
piece  out  of  somebody  else's  life — not  his  own. 

He  arrived  cool,  polished,  perfectly  got  up,  as 
if  he  had  not  had  a  three  miles'  walk  from  the 
bleak  heights  of  Alonzo  Terrace.  He  found  his 
hostess  rather  overdressed;  Master  Bertie,  who 
dined  late  in  his  honor;  Nina,  a  grave,  shy,  beau- 
tiful statue  in  soft,  sheeny  gray;  and  a  harmless 
married  couple,  prepared  by  the  St.  Justs  to  view 
him  as  the  lion  of  the  evening. 

He,  of  course,  took  his  hostess  down,  but  he 
sat  between  her  and  Nina,  and  managed,  with 
that  swiftness  of  eye  which  belonged  at  once  to 
his  ordinary  pursuits  and  his  present  condition  of 
mind,  while  he  talked  to  the  one,  to  look  at  the 
other,  collecting  as  much  material  as  possible  for 
his  own  after  discomfort.  That  delicate  yet 
decided  profile,  the  young,  proud  curves  of  the 


A    STRANGE    INSPIRATION  33 

crimson  lip,  the  fine  paleness  of  the  changing 
cheek,  on  which  the  velvet  bloom  of  childhood 
still  lingered;  even  the  plaits  of  fair  satin  hair 
circling  the  small,  stately  head  were  not  visions 
conducive  to  philosophical  endurance  of  Mrs. 
Higson  and  Poyntz. 

When  he  learned  accidentally  that  she  was  but 
sixteen,  and  understood  thereby  the  wide,  inno- 
cent gaze  of  her  large  dark  eyes,  it  did  not  make 
things  any  better.  However,  he  showed  no  out- 
ward sign — his  apprenticeship  to  the  world  had 
been  too  severe  for  that;  he  talked  to  her  a  little 
in  a  half  paternal,  half  chivalrous  way — he  had 
found  that  this  method  of  addressing  their  daugh- 
ters went  down  well  with  desirable  mothers — and 
he  joked  Bertie  about  the  big  fish  that  had  nearly 
drowned  three  people;  and  generally  interested 
himself  politely  in  all  that  was  said  by  every- 
body— and  this  is  a  valuable  habit. 

Dinner  was  over;  the  gentlemen  rejoined  the 
ladies;  the  hands  of  the  blue  Sevres  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  went  round,  and  Tyrawley  began  to 
breathe  bitter  inward  congratulations  that  he  had 
not  made  a  fool  of  himself — but  he  was  a  little  too 
soon. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  proposed  music.  "  Did  Mr. 
Tyrawley  sing  ? "  He  did,  and  he  would,  without 
pressing;  he  was  quite  aware  that  he  had  a  par- 
ticularly sweet  tenor  voice,  and  he  felt  a  fierce 
desire  to  do  something  that  he  could  do  well  and 
yet  honestly,  like  other  men.  So  he  sang  one  or 
3 


34  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

two  songs,  Italian  and  English,  and  a  little  reck- 
less German  love-song  he  had  picked  up  some- 
where, and  felt  as  if  the  tension  were  a  little 
relieved. 

Then  Mrs.  St.  Just  summoned  her  daughter  to 
the  piano.  "My  child,"  she  said,  "  never  will 
sing  any  thing  but  such  grave  songs.  It  doesn't 
seem  natural  for  a  young  girl,  though  I  must  own 
nothing  comes  up  to  them.  Sing  that  Bible 
thing,  dear,  you  were  singing  last  night." 

So  Nina,  looking  straight  before  her,  sang, 
with  that  simplicity  which  is  in  itself  the  utmost 
pathos,  and  more  pathetic  still  in  combination 
with  such  words  of  complex  sorrow,  ''He  was 
despised  and  rejected  of  men." 

Tyrawley  said  a  mechanical  "  Thank  you,"  and 
as  mechanically  asked  for  another.  He  showed 
no  feeling,  but  the  storm  was  wild  enough  within. 
Of  course,  he  took  the  words  to  himself — people 
always  do  in  supreme  moments — and  so  made 
them  poison  instead  of  healing. 

The  soft  iteration,  "Despised,  despised, 
rejected,"  seemed  like  a  finger  incessantly  touch- 
ing a  wound;  he  could  have  groaned  and  cursed. 
The  fine,  gentlemanly  Tyrawley,  who  could  talk 
intellectually  on  every  subject,  was  really  so 
ignorant  a  heathen  that  he  did  not  apprehend  the 
true  meaning  of  the  words;  but  he  was  so  afraid 
of  himself  under  this  new  aspect  that  he  was 
about  to  take  his  leave  when  Mrs.  St.  Just  ex- 
claimed : 


A   STRANGE   INSPIRATION  35 

"  Oh!  before  you  go  you  must  see  these  hardy 
orchids  my  gardener  has  sent  from  my  country 
house.  Nina,  child,  take  him  into  the  con- 
servatory." 

He  followed  the  slight  gray  figure  into  the 
soft,  scented  half-light,  and  looked  almost  in 
silence  at  the  strange  blooms,  which  mock  insect 
and  reptile.  He  did  not  know  whether  it  was 
Paradise  or  Hades.  They  were  standing  be- 
neath a  softly  burning  lamp.  The  tempest 
within  had  made  him  white  to  his  very  lips,  and 
his  heart  beat  pitiably.  The  girl,  looking  up 
from  where  she  was  kneeling  to  inspect  a  purple 
gloxinia,  saw  it  and  started;  the  hidden  fervor  of 
her  nature,  still  but  intense,  rushed  into  her  dark 
eyes,  her  voice  melted  unconsciously  into  child- 
like tenderness,  as  she  said: 

"Oh,  how  pale  you  look  !     You  are  ill." 

"It's  nothing,"  said  he,  speaking  fast,  as  men 
do  to  keep  themselves  under.  "  I've  been  a  little 
ill — a  touch  of  pleurisy — that's  all." 

She  gazed  into  his  face.  "Pleurisy?  People 
get  that  from  catching  cold.  You  got  it  in  sav- 
ing me  and  Bertie.  Oh,  Mr.  Tyrawley  !  "  and 
then  he  felt,  light  as  a  butterfly's  wing,  the  touch 
of  two  warm  young  lips  on  his  hand  as  it  rested 
on  the  staging. 

He  took  it  away,  he  wrung  it  in  the  other,  he 
cried  in  a  stifled  voice,  "Oh,  my  God  !  dorit ! 
You  don't  know  what  I  am." 

And  she,  rising  to  her  feet,  stood,  forgetting 


36  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

to  blush,  forgetting  herself,  in  this  sudden 
glimpse  of  an  agony  she  could  not  comprehend. 
He  might  have  said  or  done  something  mad,  but 
the  habit  of  years  conquered. 

"You  honor  me  too  much,"  he  said,  with  a 
return  to  that  half-paternal  manner  which  had 
been  such  a  success  hitherto.  Then,  as  he  saw 
her  lip  quiver,  her  eyes  fill,  her  cheek  crimson, 
passion  conquered  policy  once  more;  he  knelt  on 
the  stone  floor,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  dusty 
outer  hem  of  her  gray  dress  with  a  muttered, 
"This  is  my  place,  only  too  near." 

Then  he  rose  rather  unsteadily — he  was  still 
weak.  There  was  a  strange  darkness  round  his 
eyes,  and  his  lips  were  white,  as  he  said,  with 
tender  coldness: 

"  Now,  forgive  me  my  momentary  aberration, 
and  forget  all  this.  Let  us  go  and  tell  Mrs.  St. 
Just  we  have  seen  the  orchids,  and  then  I'll  say 
good-night." 

He  stood  aside  to  allow  her  to  precede  him. 
That  wild  and  humble  caress  had  somehow  been 
balm  to  the  smart  of  the  sudden  wave  of  shame 
which  had  swept  over  her;  and  then  he  looked 
physically  so  unfit  for  further  strain  that  she 
could  not  but  second  him.  So  she  drew  up  her 
head  and  walked  quietly  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  Mrs.  St.  Just  only  remarked,  as  Mr. 
Tyrawley  made  his  adieux,  that  he  looked  fright- 
fully ill,  and  ought  to  go  home  to  bed. 

He  loathed  the  idea  of  Alonzo  Terrace  and  its 


A    STRANGE   INSPIRATION  37 

associations  so  much  that,  when  he  was  clear  of 
Cupola  Square,  he  went  and  stood  dreamily  on 
the  parade,  and  looked  across  the  waste  of  toss- 
ing waters,  solemnly  restless  in  the  moonlight. 
His  mind  was  like  that  tossing  sea:  in  the  new 
light  that  had  risen  upon  him  he  was  like  two 
men,  and  they  fought  fiercely;  though  no  one 
would  have  guessed  it  from  that  statuesque 
countenance  and  figure,  motionless  save  for  the 
slow  stroking  of  his  mustache. 

A  voice  behind  him  suddenly  remarked  with 
emphasis  : 

"  You're  a  fool — a  confounded  fool !  " 

It  was  MacAdam,  come  to  blow  off  the  effects 
of  club  whiskey  and  whist. 

"  I  quite  agree.  I  am  a  fool,  and  also  am  con- 
founded, but  I  wasn't  aware  that  I  looked  it." 

"You  do,"  said  the  doctor  didactically. 
"Come,  let's  be  moving,"  he  added,  putting  his 
arm  into  Tyrawley's.  "A  man  is  a  fool  who, 
after  a  sharp  attack  of  pleurisy,  stands  star- 
gazing in  a  summer  greatcoat.  I'll  walk  a  bit  of 
the  way  home  with  you,  you  lunatic." 

"  Thanks,  do.  I  wasn't  star-gazing  either, 
rather  the  reverse.  I  was  wondering,"  said  he, 
looking  straight  into  MacAdam's  little  keen  gray 
eyes,  "  if  I  were  to  jump  off  the  pier,  whether  a 
natural  but  idiotic  instinct  of  self-preservation 
would  make  me  strike  out,  or  whether  reason 
would  triumph,  and  make  me  keep  my  arms  close 
to  my  sides,  and  go  down  in  a  decent  manner." 


38  THE    APOTHEOSIS  OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Oh,  reason!"  snorted  the  doctor.  "But  I 
can  tell  you  that  you'd  struggle  like  any  thing." 

"  For  what  ?  "  said  Tyrawley. 

''Your  life,  man." 

Tyrawley  whistled  softly. 

"What's  amiss?"  said  MacAdam.  "Dinner 
disagreed  with  you,  luck  bad — what  ? " 

"Both;  but  neither  in  the  way  you  mean. 
I've  some  thoughts,"  he  said  deliberately,  "of 
going  and  getting  ineffably  drunk;  only  the 
worst  of  it  is,  I  don't  know  the  precise  effect.  It 
might  be  temporary  oblivion " 

"Or,"  interrupted  MacAdam,  "it  might  be 
the  police-station — don't  be  an  ass.  I  ask  you 
again,  what's  amiss  ?  " 

"Oh,  every  thing,  I  think,"  said  Tyrawley,  a 
little  wildly;  "and  I  wish,"  he  added  peevishly, 
"you  wouldn't  take  me  up  like  this,  MacAdam. 
Nobody  ever  did  before." 

"  I  have  odd  fancies  sometimes,"  returned  he 
composedly.  "Suppose  you  tell  me  the  case? 
and  I'll  give  you  a  professional  opinion  in  strict 
confidence." 

Tyrawley  looked  on  the  ground,  and  was  silent 
for  some  time  as  they  walked  on;  then  he 
said,  in  an  altered  and  less  reckless  tone — the 
most  real  perhaps  MacAdam  had  ever  heard 
him  use: 

"  Perhaps  I  will,  some  time,  if  you  don't  change 
your  mind." 

"Come  up  to  my  diggings  to-morrow,"  said 


A   STRANGE   INSPIRATION  39 

the    doctor,  "and  dine  with  me.     My  sister  is 
going  out  to  tea  and  scandal." 

Tyrawley  hesitated. 

"Don't  do  it  in  the  warmth  of  your  heart," 
said  he,  "  after  the  Club  whiskey,  and  say  to- 
morrow morning,  '  Hang  that  rascal!  I  wish  I 
hadn't  asked  him.' ' 

"Oh,  I  sha'n't  do  that!  Besides,  whiskey 
doesn't  affect  me.  Now  here's  your  turning. 
Shoot  home,  there's  a  sensible  chap,  and  leave 
drunks  and  drownings  alone  for  to-night." 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

"Poor  beggar!  "  thought  Mac  Adam,  turning 
to  look  after  him,  "seems  miserable  enough. 
Nobody  would  ever  think  he  had  this  sort  of 
thing  in  him,  to  see  him  among  the  fellows  at  the 
Club.  I  wonder  what  has  stirred  it  up  to-night  ?  " 

When  he  announced  to  his  sister,  an  elderly 
spinster  of  rigid  views,  who  was  his  guest  for 
next  day's  dinner,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  pursed 
up  her  mouth  disapprovingly. 

"But  isn't  that  person  a  regular  gambler,  a 
sort  of  impostor?"  she  enquired.  "Dear  Mrs. 
Gascoigne  told  me  he  had  won  ever  so  much  of 
her  boy  Nathaniel's  money  at  that  Club  of  yours." 

"There  you  go,  you  women  !  " — he  was  rather 
vexed  with  himself  for  the  interest  he  could  not 
help  feeling  in  the  questionable  Tyrawley.  "  Old 
Mother  Gascoigne  is  a  gossip,  and  her  sweet  Nat 
as  arrant  a  young  rip  as  ever  handled  a  cue;  it 
will  teach  him  to  respect  his  elders  if  he  is  bled  a 


4O  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

little.  But  that's  the  way;  when  a  chap's  down 
in  the  world  nobody  will  ever  let  him  get  up. 
Tyrawley  is  a  publican  and  a  sinner,  I  grant  you; 
but  there  are  Pharisees  as  well,"  and  he  walked 
off  in  a  huff,  not,  however,  without  hearing  Miss 
Mac  Adam's  parting  observation: 

"Apparently  the  man  is  clever  enough  to  take 
you  in." 


CHAPTER  V 
THE    PLEASURES   OF   RESPECTABILITY 

MR.  TYRAWLEY  turned  up  at  the  doctor's  next 
evening,  looking  rather  fagged,  half  diffident, 
half  defiant  in  manner. 

He  had  slept  but  little  the  night  before,  and 
had  spent  the  morning  in  hanging  about  Cupola 
Square,  to  see  if  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  Mrs. 
St.  Just  or  her  daughter,  to  remove  or  confirm  a 
deep  misgiving  which  had  risen  in  his  mind  as  he 
stared  at  the  gray  dawn.  He  thought  it  but  too 
probable  that  Nina  St.  Just  would,  on  thinking 
his  outbreak  over,  cut  him,  as  the  best  way  of 
escaping  an  awkward  memory.  However,  he 
was  lucky  enough  to  meet  her  eye  as — a  member 
of  one  of  those  regiments  of  fair  equestrians  for 
which  Claretown  is  famous — she  turned  the 
corner  into  the  parade.  It  was  only  one  look, 
and  rather  a  timid  one;  but  there  was  a  touch  of 
pity,  and  even  of  anxiety,  in  it,  which,  by  some 
strange  alchemy  of  the  affections,  confirmed 
certain  half-formed  resolutions.  The  idea  of 
Tyrawley  making  resolutions  would  have  been 
too  utter  a  joke  a  week  ago,  even  to  himself,  but 
it  took  place  all  the  same. 


42  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Still  he  rather  shrank  from  his  interview  with 
MacAdam.  When  you  have  never  opened  your 
mind  to  any  body  for  sixteen  years,  the  hinges 
have  got  stiff;  and  the  two  men  talked  on  ordi- 
nary topics,  till  a  dinner,  which  Miss  MacAdam 
pronounced  far  too  good  for  "  that  adventurer," 
but  which  the  doctor  had  positively  insisted  on, 
had  been  discussed,  and  they  were  sitting  in  the 
latter's  smoking-room,  with  a  blazing  fire  within, 
and  a  howling  wind  without;  both  circumstances, 
I  think,  favorable  to  confidence. 

"  Now,"  said  MacAdam,  breaking  the  silence, 
"  have  another  cigar,  and  let  us  hear  what  the 
case  is." 

Tyrawley  stroked  his  mustache  with  a  nervous 
hand,  and  looked  rather  haggardly  into  the  fire. 

"Well,  it  is  not  exactly  a  case.  It's  your 
opinion  I  want." 

"You  mayn't  like  it,"  said  the  doctor,  "  when 
you  get  it." 

"  Very  likely  not,  but  it  can't  make  things 
look  any  blacker  than  they  do.  Well,  this  is  it. 
Can  a  man  who  was  born  to  go  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  post — bred  and  trained  to  go  on  the 
wrong  side,  and  has  always  taken  a  pride  in 
going  on  the  wrong  side — have  any  hope  at  all  of 
ever  going  straight  ?  " 

He  held  his  breath  when  he  had  asked  the 
question,  and  looked  a  trifle  wistful  as  MacAdam 
replied,  with  the  sententiousness  of  his  country: 

"  It  would  depend  on  the  man,  and  his  age." 


THE   PLEASURES   OF   RESPECTABILITY  43 

"The  man,"  ,said  Tyrawley  doggedly,  "is 
habitually  more  or  less  of  a  swindler  and  a  vaga- 
bond. He  has  come  one  or  two  muckers  so 
tremendous  that  he  runs  the  risk  of  being 
kicked  out  of  all  decent  company,  if  they  were 
known." 

"  Muckers  of  what  sort  ?  "  enquired  Mac  Adam' 
judicially. 

"Monetary  transactions,"  said  the  other,  in  a 
tone  in  which  shame  and  defiance  were  oddly 
blended.  "It  may,  however,  be  said  for  him 
that  he  never  got  drunk  from  choice,  and  is  con- 
stitutionally averse  to  any  thing  but  mild  and  in- 
terested flirtations  with  dowagers." 

"  Funny,  if  true." 

"It  is  true;  the  man  in  this  respect  is  better 
than  some  much  better  fellows.  He  has  lived 
thirty-three  years  under  more  or  less  general 
censure,  and  his  name  is  Tyrawley,  as  you  prob- 
ably guess." 

"  I  did,"  said  the  doctor,  and  there  was  a  some- 
what prolonged  silence. 

"Is  there,"  said  Tyrawley  at  last,  rather 
huskily,  "  the  ghost  of  a  chance  ?  " 

The  doctor  fidgeted  uneasily.  "Oh,  my  dear 
chap,"  said  he,  "why  on  earth  should  you  ask 
me?" 

"Because  I  have  only  a  formal  acquaintance 
with  any  but  individuals  of  my  own  species,  ex- 
cept you." 

"  Well,"  sajd  the  doctor  presently,  "I'm  not 


44  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

much  of  a  judge  of  morals,  God  knows;  but  I 
had  a  good  mother,  and  I'll  speak  according  to 
my  light,  I  promise  you,  old  man,"  he  added, 
laying  his  little  pudgy  hand  kindly  on  the  other's 
knee.  "What's  the  meaning  of  this  sudden 
convulsion  ?  You  always  seemed  so  jolly." 

Here  a  wonderful  thing  occurred.  Mr. 
Tyrawley  blushed — actually  blushed;  a  faint  red 
spot  touched  the  cheek  which  sickness  had  left 
hollow,  and  a  faint  sigh  escaped  him. 

"Oh, "said  the  doctor,  "you  needn't  tell  me 
any  more;  it's  not  a  dowager  this  time.  Well,  I 
won't  ask  any  questions.  I'll  give  you  that 
opinion  instead.  It  is  possible,  but  awfully 
hard.  Facilis  descensus  Averni — but  the  ascent 
is  steep,  and  every  now  and  then  somebody  will 
give  you  a  push  down  again." 

"  Of  course,  I'm  prepared  for  that." 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  the  law  of  con- 
sequences is  rigid  enough.  If  you've  never 
worked — in  addition  to  the  internal  difficulty, 
which  is  considerable — you'll  find,  when  you  try 
it,  that,  if  you  work  harder  than  others,  they'll 
say  it's  for  show;  and  if  you  go  the  ordinary 
pace,  you're  lazy.  Then  if  you  have  an  honest 
love,  or  even  friendship,  they  will  say  you  have 
an  object  to  gain.  You  mustn't  be  too  pleasant, 
or  they'll  call  you  a  humbug;  and  if  you  speak 
straight,  they'll  say  it's  uncommon  cheek.  If 
you  think  you  can  face  it,  and  if  the  motive  is 
sufficient,  it's  all  right;  but  if  not,  I  shouldn't 


THE   PLEASURES   OF    RESPECTABILITY  45 

begin.  A  false  start  takes  the  courage  out  of 
the  best  horse." 

"  I  think,"  said  Tyrawley,  "I  have  no  motive, 
but  something  has  happened  which  has  made 
what  I  am  doing  now  perfectly  intolerable." 

The  doctor  studied  him  as  he  leaned  his  chin 
on  his  open  palms.  Tyrawley  stared  into  the 
fire. 

"More  spirit  than  stamina,  physically,"  he 
thought.  "  Poor  chap  !  I'm  afraid  he'll  make  a 
bad  fist  of  it  ;  he  has  no  more  idea  of  what  he's 
in  for  than  Fireworks,  if  I  were  to  put  her  in  a 
brick-cart.  Must  keep  my  patient's  heart  up, 
however."  So  he  said,  quite  gently,  "Well,  I'll 
quote  to  you  a  saying  of  my  mother's,  who  is  in 
heaven,  if  any  body  ever  went  there.  She  used 
to  tell  me  that  there  were  two  phrases  which 
would  carry  a  man  through  any  difficulty " 

Tyrawley  looked  at  him  with  the  mute,  teach- 
able enquiry  of  a  child,  which  touched  the  little 
doctor. 

"And  those  were,"  he  continued  seriously, 
"'I  will — God  help  me.'  She  said  one  was  no 
good  without  the  other." 

Tyrawley  opened  his  lips  to  speak  once  or 
twice,  but  no  sound  came.  At  last  he  put  his 
head  down  on  his  hands,  and  whispered,  rather 
than  spoke,  with  a  long  pause  between  the  two 
phrases,  "  I  will — God  help  me  !  " 

That  gentle  Presbyterian  lady  little  thought 
how  the  simple  words  spoken  to  her  small,  flaxen- 


46  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

headed  son,  in  a  Highland  manse,  would  make 
anchorage  years  after  for  a  sinking  soul. 

"Amen,"  said  little  MacAdam  solemnly;  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  for  a  second  he  saw  his 
dead  mother's  face  again.  "Now,"  said  he 
cheerily,  after  a  moment,  "  what  is  the  first  step 
on  this  straight  road  ? " 

"  I've  been  thinking  that  over,"  said  the  other. 
"Work  is,  of  course,  the  thing.  Clerking,  I 
suppose;  but  who  would  take  a  man  at  my  age, 
and  without  a  character?  I  can't  very  well  be 
a  laborer,  and  I'm  too  old  to  learn  a  trade. 
There's  only  one  opening  I  can  see  at  present. 
I  think  I  could  be  a  billiard-marker.  I  can  play, 
as  Poyntz  knows  ;  address  and  appearance  good, 
as  advertisements  say;  and  lots  of  fellows  I  know 
would  give  me  a  reference  for  that'' 

"Not  a  bad  idea  for  a  start;  but  stop  a  bit. 
What  sort  of  hand  do  you  write  ?  I  forget." 

Tyrawley  took  out  pocket-book  and  pencil, 
scribbled  a  few  lines,  and  handed  them  over. 

"Come,  that's  fine.  I  think,  as  it  happens,  I 
can  get  you  a  job  for  a  week  or  so.  There's  a 
brother  medico  of  mine,  a  learned  professor,  who 
is  writing  a  book,  and  wants  it  copied  by  some- 
body with  two  grains  of  sense,  who  knows  the 
difference  between  psychical  and  physical." 

"MacAdam,"  said  the  other  falteringly,  "I 
don't  know  what  to  say  to  you  except  'thanks.' 
But  if  there  were  more  men  like  you,  there  would 
be  fewer  blackguards  like  me." 


THE   PLEASURES   OF    RESPECTABILITY  47 

"  Oh,  you  weren't  meant  for  a  blackguard  ! 
We  shall  see  you  county  magistrate,  or  some- 
thing yet." 

"  From  the  dock  to  the  bench — eh  !  "  said 
Tyrawley,  with  the  ghost  of  a  smile,  "  I  believe 
if  I  go  straight  I  shall  actually  disappoint  my 
worthy  landlady,  who  has  made  up  her  mind  I'm 
a  '  vessel  of  wrath. ' ' 

"  I  should  show  up  at  the  Club,  if  I  were  you," 
said  Mac  Adam,  "and  go  about  as  usual.  You 
can  do  your  work  early  in  the  day  ;  and  I  don't 
think  I  should  try  marker  till  every  thing  else 
failed.  This  friend  of  mine  might  recommend 
you  on." 

"Well,  if  I  go  to  the  Club,  I  needn't  play 
duffers  like  Poyntz  any  more — needn't  play  at 
all,  in  fact,  for  I  can't  afford  to  lose." 

"Play  whist  at  penny  points  ;  science  comes 
out  there.  Now,  if  you  like,  I'll  take  you  round 
and  introduce  you  to  my  brother-sawbones 
straight  away." 

A  few  days  later  MacAdam  was  smitten  with 
curiosity  to  see  how  Tyrawley  worked  in  harness; 
so  he  took  Fireworks  a  spin  up  the  parade  to 
Greytown,  which  is  on  the  sea-front,  but  at  the 
extreme  end  of  Claretown  proper.  Here  the 
streets  are  wide  and  windy,  the  houses  good,  but 
gray  and  chilly,  trees  there  are  none,  and  pas- 
sengers are  few;  it  is  intensely  respectable  and 
hopelessly  dull.  MacAdam  cast  the  reins  to  his 
groom  at  the  dullest  house  in  the  dullest  square, 


48  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  was  presently  confronted  by  a  dingy  maid, 
who  admitted  him  with  a  reluctant  proviso  that 
Dr.  Grenfell  would  be  in  in  a  minute. 

"I  say," said  MacAdam,  "  there's  a  gentleman, 
a  friend  of  mine,  doing  some  work  for  Dr.  Grenfell 
here  ;  I'll  go  and  talk  to  him  meanwhile." 

He  was  accordingly  shown  into  a  dismal  study 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  whose  outlook  was  a 
strip  of  pebbly  garden,  decorated  with  a  few 
stunted  marigolds.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
bookcases,  the  furniture  generally  with  pamphlets 
and  papers  ;  shelves  held  sundry  strange  and 
grisly  preparations,  the  fire  was  dead  in  the  grate, 
and  the  atmosphere  distinctly  chilly.  Tyrawley, 
seated  at  a  table  to  catch  the  last  light  of  the 
autumn  evening,  was  writing,  with  all  the  pains- 
taking accuracy  of  a  new  hand. 

He  started  up,  looking  cold  and  stupefied  when 
MacAdam,  leaning  over  his  shoulder,  said: 

"Hallo,  old  man — '  pthisis  ' — that's  not  the 
way  to  spell  '  phthisis  '  !  He  took  the  pen  from 
the  other's  hand  and  altered  the  word. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  I'm  always  making  mis- 
takes ;  but  I'm  rather  cold,  and  I  get  thick- 
headed when  I've  been  at  it  a  long  time." 

"  I  dare  say;  can't  shake  down  to  it  all  at  once. 
There's  a  difference  between  this  and  playing 
billiards  at  the  Club  and  knocking  about  the 
parade." 

"I  should  think  there  was,"  said  Tyrawley, 
getting  up  and  stretching  himself. 


THE   PLEASURES   OF   RESPECTABILITY  49 

"Oh,  Mac  Adam,"  he  added  earnestly,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  the  little  man's  shoulder,  "  you 
don't  know  the  pleasures  of  respectability  !  " 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  said  the 
doctor,  with  a  dry  chuckle. 

"Bosh  !  I  mean  for  a  beggar  like  me,  who 
has  never  earned  an  honest  penny.  I  assure 
you,  when  the  professor  handed  over  the  first 
few  shillings  I  could  have  worshipped  it  like  a 
fetich." 

"  More  fool  you.  And  I  don't  understand, 
because  I  know  you've  been  flush  enough  some- 
times— thanks  to  Poyntz  &  Co." 

"  That's  just  like  it.  Robbing  children  and 
idiots  !  But  that  half-sovereign  was  fair  pay 
for  fair  work." 

"  How  many  hours  a  day,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  may  I  ask  you,  do  you  work  in  this  well  of  a 
place  ? " 

"About  seven;  but  pray  don't  say  any  thing 
to  Grenfell,"  in  alarm,  "or  he  will  think  I  have 
been  growling,  and  shunt  me." 

He  had  seen  MacAdam's  elevated  eyebrows. 

"H'm,  ten  shillings  for  forty-two  hours — not 
twopence-halfpenny  an  hour.  The  British  work- 
ing-man would  turn  up  his  nose  to  the  skies;  but 
old  Grenfell  always  was  a  stingy  customer.  Does 
he  give  you  a  decent  lunch  ?  "  enquired  the  doc- 
tor, casting  his  eyes  suspiciously  on  a  rather 
unpromising-looking  luncheon-tray. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  all  right,  when  he  doesn't  forget  it 
4 


50  THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

altogether  in  the  pursuit  of  science,"  said  Tyraw- 
ley,  with  rather  an  awkward  laugh.  "  I  can  see 
he  despises  me  awfully  if  I  venture  to  hint  at  the 
discomforts  inseparable  from  matter,  even  when 
mind  is  in  question." 

"Yes,"  said  MacAdam  ;  "he's  a  chap  with 
one  idea.  Outside  that,  and  a  faint  respect  for 
conventionalities,  he  is  the  most  selfish  beggar 
that  ever  lived.  Get  on  with  him  all  right  ? " 

"Perfectly — on  the  principle  of  the  little 
hymn,  'If  I  never  speaks  to  him  (except  on  his 
'ology),  He  never  speaks  to  me.'  I  say — here 
he  comes." 

And  Tyrawley  sat  down  in  a  hurry  at  his  table, 
while  the  doctor,  amused  at  his  unexpected  dis- 
play of  simplicity,  went  to  meet  his  friend. 

Professor  Otho  Grenfell  was  bald,  spectacled, 
gray,  and  mouldy ;  he  looked  fifty,  and  was 
thirty-eight  ;  he  was  unclean  as  to  his  linen,  and 
fragments  of  unpleasant  substances  contracted 
in  his  researches  were  apt  to  bestrew  his  gar- 
ments. He  looked  dreamily  at  MacAdam,  gave 
him  a  pale  nod  and  three  fishy  fingers,  then 
turned  watchfully  on  his  secretary. 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Tyrawley,"  he  said,  "you've 
recopied  those  forty  paragraphs.  They  were 
quite  illegible." 

"Oh,  he's  been  working  like  a  nigger,"  said 
the  mendacious  MacAdam.  "Takes  a  deep 
interest " — with  a  faint  emphasis  on  the  noun — 
"in  your  discoveries.  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  he 


THE   PLEASURES   OF    RESPECTABILITY  51 

added,  speaking  in  an  undertone,  and  drawing 
the  professor  to  the  further  window,  "you  look 
seedy — been  fagging  too  hard  in  this  cold  room. 
Give  that  poor  chap  a  chance,  too  ;  he's  got 
lungs,  and  he's  getting  to  look  like  a  plant  grown 
in  a  cellar.  You  scientists  forget  you're  doctors  ; 
but  he  is  a  patient  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  he's  well  enough,"  returned  the  pro- 
fessor snappishly.  "Of  course,  I'm  obliged  to 
you  for  recommending  him  ;  but  he  is  a  very 
slow  writer,  and  misspells  every  technical  word." 

"  I  dare  say,  poor  wretch,"  said  MacAdam — 
"  makes  his  head  buzz,  I  expect,  if  it's  all  like 
what  I  saw  just  now." 

"  Do  you  think  it  unintelligible?"  said  Gren- 
fell,  awakened  to  anxiety.  "  Do  you  think  the 
profession " 

"Oh,  they'll  understand  it,"  said  MacAdam 
disrespectfully,  cutting  him  short.  "By  Jove  !" 
he  added,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  turning  to  the 
empty  fireplace,  "  it  is  cold.  Have  a  fire,  there's 
a  good  chap,  and  let's  have  a  cup  of  coffee  all 
round.  Fireworks  has  nearly  pulled  my  arms 
off,  and  that  poor  beggar  looks  blue.  Let  him 
off  for  ten  minutes  to  get  his  circulation  back, 
and  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  got  for  you." 

"Very  well,"  responded  the  other  ungra- 
ciously ;  but  his  eye  brightened  when  MacAdam 
enumerated  sundry  grisly  objects  connected 
with  his  studies,  and  he  became  quite  human  and 
conversible  over  the  coffee,  and  even,  in  the 


52  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TVRAWLEY 

warmth  of  his  friendship,  went  with  MacAdam  to 
the  hall-door. 

"I  say,"  said  the  little  doctor,  buttonholing 
him  mysteriously,  "  if  I  were  you,  I  should  give 
Tyrawley  rather  a  bigger  salary — say  fifteen 
shillings — or  perhaps  you'll  lose  his  services; 
somebody  else  might  outbid  you." 

"It's  quite  enough,"  said  the  professor 
warmly.  "Any  schoolboy,  or  a  clerk  in  his 
spare  hours " 

"Yes;  but  they  would  talk,  and  this  fellow 
won't — he's  a  gentleman." 

So  Grenfell,  who  feared  above  all  things  that 
his  great  work  should  be  anticipated,  ungraciously 
made  the  proposed  change,  to  the  immense  sur- 
prise of  his  secretary. 

Lest  Mr.  Tyrawley's  contentment  with  his 
new  lot  should  appear  unnatural,  it  may  be  re- 
marked that  a  virgin  soil  is  usually  fertile,  and 
the  department  of  honest  labor  in  his  char- 
acter had  been  hitherto  uncultivated.  Your 
adventurer  often  displays  a  childlike  simplicity 
when  entirely  outside  his  own  business. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  DOCTOR'S  ADMONITION 

"I  SAY,  old  fellow,"  said  Tyrawley,  meeting 
MacAdam  a  few  evenings  later  at  the  Club,  "I 
wonder  if  you'd  do  me  a  great  favor — another, 
I  mean." 

He  looked  so  sheepish  that  the  doctor  imme- 
diately became  suspicious. 

"Want  another  berth?  Chucked  up  quill- 
driving?" 

"Good  gracious,  no!"  said  Tyrawley.  "On 
the  contrary,  even  the  professor  owns  I'm  get- 
ting useful.  No,  old  man,  I  want  your  opinion 
about  a  horse  I've  been  asked  to  choose  for 
a  friend." 

"I  thought  you  knew  all  about  gee-gees,"  said 
MacAdam.  "I  can  testify  you  know  how  to 
ride  them,  anyhow." 

"It's  one  of  my  large  stock  of  useless  accom- 
plishments; but  this  is  a  much  more  important 
business,  though  it  is  not  a  purchase,  only  a  job. 
It's  not  my  neck  that  is  in  question,  but  a  lady's." 

"Fat,  fair,  and  forty,"  said  the  doctor  mali- 
ciously. "You  stated,  I  think,  that  mild,  mid- 
dle-aged flirtations  were  your  line." 


54  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

The  usually  suave  Tyrawley  bit  his  lip  and 
looked  rather  black.  "No,"  said  he,  with  con- 
straint, "rather  the  other  way.  A  young  lady, 
almost  a  child." 

Sincere  emotions  equalize  character.  The 
polished  cynic,  inured  to  self-control,  failed  to 
keep  the  tenderness  out  of  his  voice.  Mac- 
Adam  was  amused,  yet  sorry,  for  he  foresaw 
complications. 

"It  must  be  something  quite  safe,"  his  friend 
continued  impressively,  "with  good  manners, 
and  good-looking." 

"People  can  pay,  I  suppose?"  asked  Mac- 
Adam,  looking  at  him  keenly.  Even  he  could 
not  expand  to  the  idea  of  any  sort  of  disinter- 
ested affection  in  the  breast  of  Mr.  Tyrawley. 
The  latter  perceived  this,  and  replied  rather 
gloomily  in  the  affirmative.  But  gratitude  and 
need  alike  prescribed  meekness,  and  he  pres- 
ently added  with  considerable  diffidence,  and 
a  rather  entreating  glance  into  MacAdam's  little 
twinkling  eyes: 

"And  if  you'll  let  me,  old  man,  I  should  like 
to  introduce  you,  that  you  may  make  your  report 
in  person.  They  are  nice  people — not  the  least 
my  sort — and  I've  told  them  you  are  no  end  of 
a  judge,  and — and  I  should  like  them  to  know 
I  have  one  friend  who  isn't  rowdy." 

"Rather  negative  praise,"  laughed  MacAdam. 
"Do  you  want  me  to  report  on  the  man  as  well 
as  the  horse  ?" 


THE   DOCTOR  S   ADMONITION  55 

Mr.  Tyrawley  shook  his  head  emphatically. 
"It  would  be  a  case  of  unsound  all  round," 
said  he.  "But,"  in  extreme  deprecation,  "you 
might,  if  you  would,  say  a  good  word  for  a 
fellow;  nobody  else  will,  if  you  don't." 

MacAdam  screwed  up  his  lips  in  a  whistle, 
half  dubious,  half  compassionate,  but  he  did  not 
say  no — perhaps  he  was  curious — and  an  appoint- 
ment was  made  for  the  morrow. 

Tyrawley  having  got  a  holiday,  the  two  men 
inspected  the  usual  array  of  broken  knees, 
broken  wind,  and  queer  tempers  presented  by 
Claretown  livery  stables.  At  last,  however, 
a  tolerably  good-looking  bay  mare,  with  good 
manners  and  decent  forelegs,  a  little  touched 
in  the  wind  (which  was,  MacAdam  remarked, 
rather  a  comfort  than  otherwise,  as  it  accounted 
for  her  being  there),  was  selected,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  she  should  be  sent  round  to 
Cupola  Square  to  be  viewed. 

"  I'll  send  my  man  upon  another  horse,  and 
the  lady  can  try  the  mare  at  once,  if  one  of  you 
gentlemen  can  take  her  out,"  said  the  proprietor. 

"  You  had  better,"  said  Tyrawley,  rather 
faintly. 

"Not  I,"  said  MacAdam,  "I'm  not  a  lady's 
man;  besides,  my  dear  chap,  it  wouldn't  be 
friendly  in  me  to  cut  you  out." 

The  other  smiled  mournfully,  but  made  no 
comment. 

MacAdam   soon  made  himself  at   home  with 


56  THE    APOTHEOSIS  OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Mrs.  St.  Just,  who  afterward  pronounced  him 
"a  charming  man."  He  looked  covertly  at 
Nina  and  then  at  Tyrawley,  both  of  whom  had 
particularly  little  to  say,  and  was  somewhat 
puzzled.  She  was  certainly  pretty,  but  insipid 
and  young — surely  not  sufficiently  striking  to 
account  for  the  embarrassment  of  the  usually 
fertile  Tyrawley. 

"If  it  were  the  money,"  reasoned  the  sage 
physician,  "the  fellow  would  have  his  wits 
more  about  him.  If  it's  the  other  thing,  poor 
chap,  he's  a  perfect  lunatic  to  think  any  thing 
can  come  of  it." 

The  lunatic  in  question  was  of  MacAdam's 
opinion,  but  he  had  not  strength  of  mind  to 
own  it  to  himself. 

Nina  appeared  in  her  riding-habit  just  as  the 
horses  were  brought  round,  and  the  whole  party 
adjourned  to  the  hall-door  to  see  the  bay  mare 
trotted  up  and  down.  Then  Tyrawley,  pulling 
himself  together,  deferentially  suggested  that 
he  might  have  the  honor  of  taking  care  of  Miss 
St.  Just  while  she  tried  the  mare.  Nina  looked 
at  her  mother,  received  assent,  and  was  presently 
put  in  her  saddle  by  the  doctor,  while  Tyrawley 
stood  at  the  mare's  head. 

It  was  a  brief  and  rather  bewildered  ride  on 
both  sides,  though  Tyrawley  took  care  of  her 
like  father,  lover,  and  riding-master  rolled  into 
one. 

They  exchanged  scarcely  a  word  or  look,  and 


THE    DOCTOR  S    ADMONITION  57 

yet,  when  they  dismounted  at  Cupola  Square, 
there  was  a  tinge  of  color  on  Nina's  pale  cheek, 
and  an  aspect  of  abstracted  happiness  on 
Tyrawley's  countenance,  which  made  the  good- 
natured  doctor  uncomfortable,  and  prevented 
his  enjoying  the  late  St.  Just's  champagne  as  he 
would  otherwise  have  done. 

Tyrawley  got  into  sad  disgrace  with  the 
worthy  professor  that  afternoon ;  and  as  the 
morning's  beatitude  gradually  wore  off,  felt 
rather  down,  without  daring  to  ask  himself  why. 
But  love  is  like  alcohol  or  sedatives ;  the  only 
remedy  for  immediate  inconvenience  is  more  of 
it,  and  yet  more.  So  he  managed,  with  the 
instinct  which  is  part  of  this  form  of  madness, 
to  obtain  many  stray  interviews ;  on  the  parade, 
on  the  Downs, — when  Parsons,  the  riding-master, 
took  out  Miss  St.  Just  and  Bertie, — in  the  public 
gardens,  and  elsewhere.  Mrs.  St.  Just  was  very 
kind  to  him,  because  he  looked  ill,  and  some- 
times sad.  Bertie  regarded  him  with  admiring 
awe;  and  Nina,  when  under  her  mother's  wing, 
talked  to  him  with  childlike  freedom,  but  when 
alone  scarcely  spoke.  MacAdam  observed  it  all 
and  became  so  uneasy  in  his  mind  that  at  last, 
after  many  misgivings,  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
broach  the  subject. 

That  we  love  those  we  benefit  is  true,  but  we 
also  feel  that  we  have  a  right  to  reprove  them,  if 
necessary;  therefore,  when  Dr.  MacAdam  invited 
Tyrawley  to  his  rooms  one  keen  November  night, 


58  THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

he  did  so  with  authority;  and  when  Tyrawley 
obeyed,  he  came  somewhat  with  the  air  your  dog 
assumes  when  he  knows  that  a  thrashing  is  in 
store  for  him,  and  has  not  quite  made  up  his 
mind  whether  to  resent  it  or  not. 

He  declined  MacAdam's  whiskey,  perhaps  that 
he  might  keep  cool, — a  professional  gambler  dare 
not  be  a  hard  drinker, — and  he  endeavored  to 
look  unconscious,  as  MacAdam,  not  much  liking 
his  job,  began  bluntly: 

"  I  say,  old  man,  how  is  this  to  end  ? " 

"  My  work  at  the  professor's  shows  no  signs 
of  ending,  I  am  thankful  to  say." 

"Oh,  it's  no  good  fencing;  you  know  well 
enough  what  I  mean." 

"What?"  said  Tyrawley,  drawing  his  eye- 
brows together,  and  looking  rather  wicked. 
"What's  the  row?" 

"Don't  get  your  head  down  to  kick,"  rejoined 
MacAdam  coolly.  "  It's  no  good  with  me." 

"No,"  said  the  other,  with  a  melancholy  sneer. 
"To  carry  out  the  simile,  you've  got  the  pull 
over  me;  go  ahead,  stick  in  the  persuaders." 

"  Don't  be  an  ass  !  What  I  want  to  know  is, 
are  you  going  in  for  Miss  St.  Just  ?  " 

It  was  a  home  thrust.  Tyrawley  turned  white 
and  red,  and  gnawed  his  mustache,  and  Mac- 
Adam's  professional  eye  noted  the  rapid,  uneven 
rise  of  his  coat  at  the  left  side. 

"Poor  chap!  palpitations.  It's  a  bad  busi- 
ness," he  thought  to  himself,  but  continued,  with 


THE   DOCTOR  S   ADMONITION  59 

Spartan  firmness,  "That's  what  I  want  to 
know." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  At  last  Tyrawley 
said  deliberately,  in  a  low  voice: 

"I  suppose  I  know  what  you  mean.  No." 
He  looked  MacAdam  full  in  the  eyes  as  he 
spoke. 

"I  mean,"  said  the  latter,  rather  indignant  at 
what  he  considered  a  tolerably  direct  lie,  "do 
you  intend  marrying  that  girl — if  you  can  ?  " 

"  The  proviso  is  necessary,  if  only  out  of  re- 
spect to  the  lady,  who  may  be  supposed  to  have 
some  voice  in  the  matter.  Am  I  in  a  position  to 
marry  any  body  ?  " 

"  That's  an  equivocation,"  said  the  persistent 
Scot.  "  Fellows  do  all  sorts  of  things  they  didn't 
ought.  What  is  the  meaning,  then,  of  your  hang- 
ing about  Cupola  Square,  and  prowling  up  and 
down  the  parade  ?  What  is  it  all  coming  to  ? 
People  are  beginning  to  notice  it,  I  tell  you,  and 
it  isn't  fair  to  the  girl. "  He  was  standing  up  now 
in  a  denunciatory  attitude,  like  a  small,  secular 
John  Knox. 

Poor  Tyrawley  writhed  under  this  direct 
attack.  "Oh,  MacAdam,"Jie  said  a  little  wildly, 
"  do  let  me  alone.  I've  never  been  happy  in  my 
life,  and  never  really  known  a  good  girl  till  now. 
I'm  doing  her  no  harm;  she's  only  a  child.  Be- 
sides, it  will  soon  be  over;  they  are  going  away 
next  week,  and  it's  a  hundred  to  one  if  I  ever  see 
them  again." 


60  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  But,  man  alive,  she'll  expect  to  see  you  !  " 

"No,  she'll  forget  all  about  me,  I — I — hope; 
worse  luck  for  me  !  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  I 
feel  when  I'm  with  her.  I  feel  as  though  I  were 
in  church,  in  heaven — anywhere  holy.  One  look 
at  her  takes  all  the  wickedness  out  of  me.  I 
begin  to  understand  that  God  is  somewhere  near; 
I've  even  begun  to  pray,  in  a  sort  of  way.  Don't 
laugh,  Mac  Adam,  you  had  a  good  mother." 

"  I'm  very  far  from  laughing,"  said  MacAdam, 
half  touched,  half  disapproving,  "but  it's  a 
beastly  tangle.  I'm  hanged  if  I  see  a  way  out." 
And  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room,  while 
Tyrawley  sat  motionless,  with  his  hand  over  his 
eyes;  and  again  there  was  a  long  silence. 

At  last  the  doctor  stopped,  and  laid  his  hand 
gently  on  the  other's  shoulder.  Perhaps  some 
vision  of  youth — an  old,  disappointed  dream — 
crossed  his  mind,  for  his  tone  was  kind  as  he 
said: 

"Well,  it's  beyond  me.  I'm  sorry  for  you, 
Tyrawley — on  my  soul  I  am;  but  I  can  say  no 
more  except,  don't  entangle  her  in  any  corre- 
spondence, or  ask  her  for  any  thing  decided  till 
she's  a  year  or  two  older,  and  you're  differently 
situated." 

Tyrawley  held  out  his  hand  silently,  and  a  brief 
grip  was  exchanged.  But  alas!  for  the  weak- 
ness of  man's  best  resolves. 

The  excellent  MacAdam  was  dismayed  when, 
accompanying  Tyrawley  some  days  later  to  see 


THE  DOCTOR'S  ADMONITION  61 

the  St.  Justs  off  from  the  Claretown  station,  he 
heard  the  latter  give  an  eager  and  decided  assent 
to  an  invitation  to  spend  his  Christmas  quietly 
with  them  at  Rooksholm,  their  place  in  Berkshire. 

"And  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Just,  "we  shall 
be  so  glad  to  see  Dr.  Mac  Adam  for  a  few  days. " 

Tyrawley's  face  fell.  He  dreaded  those  little, 
quick  gray  eyes,  and  that  officiously  candid 
tongue.  His  heart  was  too  strong  for  his  honor, 
and  he  could  not  help  a  long  retention  of  Nina's 
slender  hand,  and  a  yet  longer  look,  wistful,  with 
all  the  wistfulness  of  uncertainty,  into  her  large 
grave  eyes.  He  shook  himself  petulantly  free  of 
MacAdam's  admonishing  consolation,  and  moped 
about  the  dull  end  of  the  parade  till  it  was  time 
to  immure  himself  in  the  professor's  study. 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE   HAWK   IN   THE   DOVE'S   NEST 

Dr.  Mac  Adam  to  Mr.  Tyrawley 

11  FAIROAKS,  ESSEX. 
"  DEAR  TYRAWLEY  : 

"  Will  you  take  enclosed  note  to  my  sister,  get 
from  her  the  key  specified,  get  out  the  gun 
(which  she,  dear  old  girl,  dare  not  touch  to  save 
her  life),  see  that  my  man  cleans  it  properly,  and 
pack  it  off  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can. 

"Be  sober  and  civil  in  your  ways  to  Bess,  for 
she  and  her  old  tabbies  shake  their  heads  over 
such  as  you,  and  she's  a  good  old  soul.  The 
gun  is  not  my  only  reason  for  writing;  this  is 
another  :  A  cousin  of  mine,  Mrs.  Lane,  is  just 
returning  to  Claretown  with  her  son.  She  is 
almost  crazy  because  she  has  found  out  that  this 
young  cub  of  sixteen  has  been  taken  about  by  a 
late  manservant  of  hers  to  billiard-rooms  and  low 
pubs,  where  he  has  got  a  taste  for  cue,  balls,  and 
beer;  but,  as  she  cannot  bear  to  cross  her  darling 
child,  and  the  darling  child  is  as  obstinate  as  a 
pig,  she  is  fitting  him  up  a  billiard-room  in  their 
own  house  on  the  parade;  and  she  wants  to  know 
if  I  could  find  any  decent  fellow  who  would  come 
there  and  give  her  cub  lessons  in  billiards  as 


THE   HAWK   IN    THE   DOVE'S   NEST  63 

played  by  gentlemen.  So  I  have  told  her  I  know 
a  person  of  unimpeachable  morals  and  manners, 
who  would,  as  a  favor  to  me,  do  the  needful 
coaching.  She  is  rolling  in  money,  and  can 
afford  to  pay  well,  and  is  a  good  soul,  not  a  screw 
like  old  Grenfell.  Her  number  is  twenty-five, 
and  you  can  go  and  arrange  with  her  any  day 
after  Tuesday. 

"I  want  to  hear  how  you  are  getting  on 
generally,  being  a  species  of  godfather  to  you 
in  the  path  of  humdrum  respectability.  Does 
Grenfell  still  keep  your  nose  to  the  grindstone  as 
much  as  ever  ?  Tell  me  if,  and  what,  you  have 
heard  from  our  friends  of  Cupola  Square;  like- 
wise if  you  have  written,  which  I  hope  you  haven't, 
because  it  would  certainly  be  the  act  of  a  fool,  or 
something  worse. 

''This  remark  you  must  put  up  with;  it  is 
for  your  own  good — all  unpleasant  things  are. 
Weather  and  people  here  all  that  they  should  be; 
lots  of  hunting  and  shooting,  and  a  tiptop  cook. 
Let  me  have  a  long  yarn,  and  don't  shy  off 
awkward  subjects,  or  I'll  disown  you. 
"Yours, 

"ALEX.  MACADAM." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  to  Dr.  Mac  Adam 

"ALONZO  TERRACE,  CLARETOWN. 
"DEAR  MACADAM  : 

"Thanks  awfully  for  your  letter.  I  can't 
think  why  you  should  befriend  me  like  this.  I 


64  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

took  the  note  at  once  to  your  sister,  who  certainly 
seemed  rather  alarmed;  but  I  looked  as  good  a 
boy  as  is  in  me,  and  was  allowed  to  carry  out 
your  wishes  under  strict  supervision.  I  cleaned 
the  gun  myself,  so  I  know  it  is  all  right,  and  I 
hope  you  have  got  it  before  now.  I  have  given 
my  first  lesson  to  young  Lane,  who  is  not  nearly 
so  much  of  a  cub  as  the  celebrated  Poyntz,  and 
treats  me  with  a  respect  to  which  I  am  totally 
unaccustomed;  but  I  don't  think  the  boy  is  chaff- 
ing. His  mother  is  awfully  nice  with  me,  and 
insists  on  far  too  high  pay.  Mrs.  Higson  is  quite 
indignant  at  the  punctuality  with  which  I  pay  my 
rent,  as  falsifying  her  views  Of  me;  she  stated 
that  I  had  waxed  fat  and  kicked.  I  asked  if  that 
was  not  scriptural.  She  replied  patronizingly 
that  it  might  be,  but  gave  me  to  understand  that 
the  Little  Elijahs  had  got  considerably  in  advance 
of  the  Bible.  The  professor  is  much  as  usual. 
The  day  before  yesterday  he  was  so  wrapped  up 
in  the  book  that  he  entirely  omitted  the  trivial 
matter  of  lunch.  He  occasionally  demands  frag- 
ments of  the  skin  of  my  arm,  to  which  he  seems 
to  think  he  has  a  lawful  claim.  I  asked  what  they 
were  for,  but  the  explanation  was  worse  than  the 
pinch.  Still,  from  interested  motives,  I  love  and 
revere  him. 

"You  ask  me  some  home  questions,  old  man, 
but  I  admit  you  have  the  right.  I  have  not 
written  to  the  St.  Justs,  perhaps  for  the  reason 
you  state,  but  Mrs.  St.  Just  has  written  to  me, 


THE   HAWK   IN    THE   DOVE'S   NEST  65 

and  I  certainly  mean  to  answer  her  letter,  and  I 
must  abide  the  consequences. 

"  I  also  intend  to  go  there  at  Christmas,  for  I 
never  in  my  vagabond  life  spent  a  family  Christ- 
mas, and  I  want  to  know  what  it  is  like.  I  don't 
see  that  it  is  any  body's  business  if  I  like  to  burn 
my  own  fingers;  there  are  some  things  so  pure 
they  can  touch  pitch  and  not  be  defiled;  and  if  I 
do  cry  for  the  moon,  the  moon  will  be  none  the 
worse,  and  shine  just  as  well  for  some  worthier 
worshipper;  which  is  a  parable.  Don't  think 
this  is  impudent  cheek.  I  shall  never  forget 
your  kindness  to  such  a  ruffian;  but  even  a  ruf- 
fian may  have  a  touch  of  feeling,  or  sentiment, 
or  whatever  you  may  like  to  call  it.  I  have  got 
into  an  awkward  hole  by  refusing  to  introduce  one 
of  my  old  chums  and  a  wife  he  has  lately  taken 
to  himself  to  the  few  decentish  people  I  know 
here.  She  is  all  right,  but  he  is  such  a  rip,  and 
such  a  howling  cad  as  well,  that  I  could  not  find 
it  in  the  embryo  I  dignify  by  the  name  of 
conscience. 

"  Mrs.  Warner  (;//<?  heiress  of  Sawyer's  Hard- 
water  Soap)  and  a  shattered  constitution  having 
put  a  stop  to  Warner's  evil  courses,  she  thinks  he 
ought  to  be  received  with  open  arms  by  all,  and 
bears  me  considerable  malice  for  viewing  things 
otherwise;  but  I  must  put  up  with  results,  if  any, 
as  part  of  my  deservings. 

"Claretown  looks  awfully  sick  to  me,  without 
Fireworks  and  her  master.  Old  chap,  forgive  me 
5 


66  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

if  I  have  said  any  thing  wrong,  or  left  out  any 
thing  right,  and  give  me  something  else  to  do  for 
you. 

"  Yours  gratefully, 

"I.   TYRAWLEY." 


"  Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend 
lapius  !  "  said  Tyrawley,  removing  his  hat  with 
exaggerated  deference  before  the  little  doctor,  as 
he  appeared  in  the  ticket-office,  red  and  breath- 
less from  the  struggle  necessary  for  the  trans- 
ferring of  Fireworks  from  one  box  to  another. 

"Oh,  bother  you!  how  are  you?  By  Jove  ! 
that  mare  will  be  the  death  of  somebody  some 
day  ;  we've  been  the  centre  of  the  admiring  popu- 
lace for  the  last  half-hour  ;  listen  to  her  now." 
And  sounds,  as  it  were  of  the  trumpetings  of  a 
lunatic  elephant,  floated  down  the  platform. 

"I  wish  I'd  come  sooner,"  said  Tyrawley.  "  I 
could  have  hung  on  somewhere  ;  but  it  has  given 
you  a  lovely  color,  old  chap." 

"You're  as  great  a  fool  as  she  is,  it  seems  to 
me,  to-day,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  looked  over 
Tyrawley's  shining  face  and  admirable  travelling 
costume.  "Quite  hymeneal.  " 

"  Who  wouldn't  be  gay  with  a  whole  fortnight's 
holiday  from  that  ogre  Grenfell,  and  the  prospect 
of  his  first  real  Christmas  ?  " 

MacAdam  looked  at  him  curiously.  "Well,  I 
hope  you'll  enjoy  it,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  not  devoid 
of  misgiving.  "  It  will  be  slowish,  I  expect." 


THE    HAWK   IN    THE   DOVE'S   NEST  67 

"  To  you,  perhaps  ;  but  as  I  have  usually  spent 
the  festive  season  in  lodgings,  or — with  other 
stray  wretches  who  had  been  kicked  out  of  their 
family  circles — at  a  club,  it  will  be  all  new  to  me." 

They  proceeded  on  to  the  platform  to  await 
their  train  ;  and  there,  and  thereafter,  Mr.  Ty- 
rawley's  conduct  rivalled,  in  a  mild  way,  the 
lunacy  of  Fireworks,  or  of  a  boy  set  free  from 
school. 

He  chaffed  the  porters,  the  guard,  Mac- 
Adam's  servants,  MacAdam  himself  most  of  all  ; 
he  snatched  the  cigar  from  that  worthy's  lips, 
and  transferred  it  to  his  own;  exchanged  travel- 
ling-caps,— which  had  the  result  of  bonneting  the 
doctor,  who  was  a  small  man  with  a  conical  head, 
— and,  opening  MacAdam's  travelling-bag,  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  out  its  contents  symmetrically  on 
the  opposite  seat,  with  appropriate  comments 
and  quotations. 

This  last  stroke  was  too  much  for  MacAdam's 
patience. 

"Here!  stop  that  conjuring,  you  egregious 
idiot,"  he  said,  tumbling  his  property  into  the 
bag,  and  aiming  a  blow  at  the  exhibitor's  ear. 
"  What  on  earth,"  he  added,  "is  the  meaning  of 
all  this  tomfoolery?" 

"I'm  unusually  jolly,  that's  all,"  said  Tyraw- 
ley  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh,  and  rather  a  look  of 
appeal  in  those  handsome,  heavy-lidded  eyes, 
which,  MacAdam  noted,  had  that  peculiar  clear- 
ness which  is  no  index  of  health. 


68  THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"If  you  were  a  Scotchman,"  said  he  grimly, 
"you'd  know  the  meaning  of  being  '  fey.' ' 

A  gambler  is  always  superstitious.  "  Oh,  for 
goodness'  sake,  don't  croak,  you  raven,  and  I'll 
check  my  indecent  mirth,  though  you  might  give 
a  poor  beggar  a  chance.  It's  impossible  to  laugh 
at  Grenfell's,  except  hysterically,  or  under  the 
gas  he  administers." 

"Has  he  been  giving  you  that?"  said  Mac- 
Adam  hastily. 

"Yes,  once  or  twice;  he  wanted  to  experi- 
ment, and  I  didn't  want  to  put  him  out,"  rejoined 
the  other  carelessly.  "  Made  me  feel  awfully  ill, 
though,  afterward  ;  but  I  suppose  it's  harmless, 
isn't  it  ? " 

"Don't  let  him  do  it  again.  The  old  lizard 
would  dissect  his  own  mother  in  the  interests  of 
science.  I  told  you,  old  man,  that  your  heart 
wasn't  very  grand." 

"Yes, "said  the  other,  sobered.  "I  suppose 
a  fellow  who  has  led  my  sort  of  life  always 
has  that  organ  in  his  mouth,  more  or  less.  You 
see  your  dinner  and  other  necessaries  approach- 
ing or  receding,  which  is  exciting,  and  yet 
you  mustn't  show  it  ;  though,  thanks  to  you, 
old  chap,  I'm  grazing  in  peacefuller  pastures 
now." 

"Well,  keep  yourself  as  quiet  as  you  can, 
whether  jolly  or  otherwise,  and  you'll  prolong 
your  days." 

"  I  want  to  prolong  them  for  a  fortnight,"  said 


THE   HAWK   IN    THE   DOVE'S   NEST  69 

Tyrawley  gayly.  "And  after  that  I  don't  much 
care. " 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense,"  said  the  doctor  testily. 
"  One  would  think  this  train  was  taking  us  direct 
to  Paradise." 

"It  is  me,  I  know,"  said  Tyrawley  quite 
seriously. 

"You're  a  sentimental  mooncalf,  and  even 
more  of  an  ass  than  when  you  were  larking," 
said  the  doctor,  getting  quite  angry;  but  he  was 
mollified  by  the  other's  replying  mildly: 

"Put  up  with  me,  old  man;  it's  safe  not  to 
last,"  and  the  conversation  turned  into  more 
general  channels  till  the  train  stopped  at  the 
Rooksholm  station. 

A  smart  brougham  and  a  pair  of  chestnut  cobs 
soon  bowled  them  over  the  four  miles  of  road 
which  intervened  between  the  station  and  the 
house. 

Rooksholm  was  a  big,  comfortable,  ugly 
mansion,  from  whose  tall  windows  welcoming 
lights  streamed  through  the  early  dusk  of  the 
winter  evening;  and  when  the  open  hall-door  let 
out  a  further  blaze  of  firelight,  the  figures  of  Mrs. 
St.  Just  and  her  children  were  revealed  in  the 
red  glow,  hospitably  ready  to  receive  the  guests 
as  they  alighted. 

"  Poor  beggar  !  your  heart's  doing  a  brisk  bit 
of  trade  all  to  itself  now,  I  expect,"  the  doctor 
moralized  inly,  as  Tyrawley  scrambled  out  of 
the  brougham,  and,  having  greeted  Mrs.  St.  Just, 


70  THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

held  her  daughter's  hand  for  perhaps  one  second 
longer  than  courtesy  demanded. 

To  MacAdam  the  warmth  of  the  welcome, 
moral  and  physical,  was  a  very  ordinary  business; 
but  to  the  social  brigand,  who  had  hitherto  only 
been  received  with  suspicion,  or  the  scant  cere- 
mony accorded  to  a  doubtful  detrimental,  it  was 
a  perfectly  new  experience. 

The  country  houses  he  had  stayed  in  were 
mostly  bachelor,  or,  at  any  rate,  sporting 
quarters.  At  Rooksholm  it  was  the  simplest, 
kindliest  home  life;  no  show,  no  scheming, 
no  flattery;  the  servants  seemed  to  make  the 
guests  part  of  the  family;  even  a  mongrel  ter- 
rier, rescued  by  Nina  from  untimely  drowning 
by  the  village  boys,  and  a  big  gray  cat,  once  a 
stray  kitten,  fawned  and  purred  their  welcome. 
There  were  only  two  other  guests — an  elderly 
young  lady  of  neutral  character,  and  a  school 
companion  of  Bertie's. 

"We  expect  my  nephew,  Mr.  John  Paget," 
said  Mrs.  St.  Just,  in  a  tone  of  some^awe.  "  He 
is  a  very  superior  young  man,  quite  the  head 
of  the  family  now  my  dear  Matthew  is  gone, 
and  we  all  look  up  to  him  very  much,  don't  we, 
Nina?" 

Mr.  Tyrawley  instantly  conceived  an  unreason- 
able dislike  to  the  person  indicated,  which  was, 
however,  toned  down  by  Nina's  dissentient 
silence,  and  the  very  slightest  curl  of  her  deli- 
cate lip. 


THE    HAWK   IN    THE   DOVE'S   NEST  71 

Mrs.  St.  Just  personally  conducted  the  two 
men  to  their  rooms,  to  cast  a  last  glance  of 
supervision  as  to  warmth  and  general  comfort. 
There  was  a  door  of  communication  between  the 
two,  at  which  Tyrawley  rejoiced,  but  MacAdam 
groaned,  foreseeing  thinly  veiled  lover's  raptures, 
protracted  into  the  small  hours  of  the  morning. 

The  dinner,  and  the  conversation  thereat, 
were,  like  the  welcome,  homely  and  profuse  : 
plans  were  made  for  the  Christmas  entertainment 
of  the  villagers,  including  the  special  delectation 
of  Nina's  Sunday-school  classes  of  big  lads  and 
little  girls,  and  "her  sick,"  as  Mrs.  St.  Just  said, 
adding: 

"  That  child  will  take  up  the  very  people  that 
no  one  else  will  have  any  thing  to  say  to — the  bad 
boys  and  the  poachers.  Look  at  Tip,"  indicat- 
ing the  disreputable  terrier;  "  that  dog  is  a  born 
thief;  and  the  cat — she  brought  up  that  thing 
with  a  teaspoon." 

"They  want  me  most,  mother,"  said  Nina 
quietly,  but  with  a  faint  color  rising  in  her  cheek, 
and  a  soft,  steady  light  in  her  dark  eyes.  Those 
eyes  met  others,  truthfully  eloquent  for  once, 
and  did  not  droop,  but  rather  dilated,  which 
MacAdam  perceived  and  regretted. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
A    RANK   IMPOSTOR 

DAYS  of  bright,  still  winter  followed — bright 
and  still  without  and  within  ;  walks,  and  rides 
when  the  frost  was  not  too  hard.  Bertie  pos- 
sessed two  miniature  Shetlands,  small  and  mis- 
chievous as  himself;  his  sister  owned  a  big  dark 
chestnut — a  lion  in  the  field,  a  lamb  in  the  stable 
— whom  only  her  light  hand  and  familiar  voice 
could  subdue,  but  which  would  trot  after  her  all 
over  the  grounds  like  a  dog.  Every-body  rode 
except  Mrs.  St.  Just,  who  plainly  stated  herself 
to  be  too  fat ;  and  naturally,  the  four  grown-ups 
divided  into  twos,  the  doctor  soothing  the  alarms 
of  Miss  Hewlett,  and  Tyrawley  schooling,  at 
Nina's  side,  a  fine  bay  colt,  which  was  to  be  her 
hunter  next  year.  To  be  with  a  woman  who  did 
not  know  how  to  flirt,  to  chaff,  to  speak  lightly 
of  right  or  wrong,  or  laugh  at  a  careless  joke, 
was  a  further  new  experience  to  Mr.  Tyrawley. 
Nina  was  schooling  him,  without  her  own  knowl- 
edge or  his,  quite  as  much  as  he  schooled  the  colt, 
but  with  less  harmless  results,  though  neither 
pupil  nor  teacher  was  at  fault.  When  riding  was 
impossible,  there  was  skating  on  the  private  lake 


A    RANK    IMPOSTOR  73 

in  the  grounds;  and  here  Mr.  Tyrawley  came  to 
the  front,  for  he  was  a  master  of  the  art,  as, 
indeed,  he  was  of  most  social  accomplishments. 
He  enjoyed  his  own  proficiency  for  the  first  time 
when  Mrs.  St.  Just  urged  him,  in  moving  terms, 
from  the  bank,  not  to  let  go  her  child's  hands. 

"Not  for  a  minute;  for,  you  know,"  she  re- 
marked to  MacAdam,  "she  must  marry  well 
some  day,  and  no  man  would  like  a  wife  with  a 
broken  nose." 

"  But  Miss  Nina  can  please  herself,  surely," 
said  the  doctor.  "  It's  only  tocherless  lassies,  as 
we  Scots  say,  who  go  a-begging." 

"Oh,  Nina  has  no  money  to  speak  of,"  she 
returned.  "  It  all  goes  to  Bertie,  with  Rooks- 
holm." 

The  doctor  communicated  the  fact  abruptly  to 
Tyrawley,  looking  at  him  with  a  keen  eye  mean- 
while. At  first  he  received  it  quite  blankly, 
then  a  slight,  tender,  melancholy  smile  touched 
his  lips. 

"  What's  the  grin  for  ? "  said  the  doctor, 
puzzled. 

"  Nothing.  Of  course,  it's  ridiculous  in  any 
case;  but  if  there  were  a  chance " 

After  which  fragmentary  eloquence  he  broke 
away  from  his  mentor.  Later,  there  were  long 
country  walks  on  sunny  mornings,  and  in  early 
twilight;  sometimes  through  solemn  pine-woods, 
when  the  soft  susurrus  of  the  wind  murmured 
an  accompaniment  to  simple,  quiet  talk;  some- 


74  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

times  across  a  brown  moor,  to  a  low,  thatched 
bird's-nest  of  a  cottage,  where  an  old  deaf  shep- 
herd, a  special  friend  of  Nina's,  was  bedridden. 

Tyrawley  carried  a  somewhat  heavy  basket, 
from  which  even  the  good-natured  doctor  re- 
volted, with  servile  joy,  and  sat  with  untiring 
patience  in  the  little  cold  parlor,  while  Nina 
chatted  with  her  invalid,  and  read  by  turns  Bible 
and  newspaper.  She  had  to  read  loud,  and  Mr. 
Tyrawley  heard  her  ;  and  some  of  that  Bible 
astonished  him  quite  as  much  as  it  might  have 
done  a  native  of  the  Caribbee  Islands  ;  for  both 
Mrs.  Higson  and  his  former  landlady  had  relied 
rather  on  their  own  eloquence  than  on  inspiration. 
His  naif  remarks  rather  amazed  MacAdam,  who 
had  been  scripturally  brought  up,  and  was  at  first 
inclined  to  think  that  Tyrawley  was  poking  fun 
at  him,  when  he  made  such  an  observation  as, 
"It  seems  to  me  sinners  have  a  much  better 
chance  in  the  Bible  than  out  of  it,"  etc. 

He  never  spoke  to  her  thus,  for  he  well  knew 
she  would  think  far  better  of  him  than  he  would 
deserve,  if  he  did  ;  and  she  had  roused  in  him  an 
honest  shame,  if  nothing  else.  In  one  of  these 
walks  he  caught  a  slight  chill,  and  being  there- 
after heard  to  cough  suggestively,  was  immedi- 
ately taken  in  hand  by  his  comfortable  hostess, 
and  made  a  glorious  invalid  of,  being  installed  in 
the  softest  arm-chair  beside  the  fire  in  the  morn- 
ing-room, where  Nina  did  her  village  accounts 
and  kept  up  Bertie's  lessons  ;  and  being  waited 


A    RANK    IMPOSTOR  75 

on,  and  read  and  sung  to,  by  the  family  generally, 
to  whom,  as  to  most  nice  people,  an  invalid  was 
a  sovereign,  pro  tern. 

The  doctor  sniffed  scornfully  as  he  looked  on 
from  afar,  and  gave  his  friend  a  bit  of  his  mind 
after  they  retired  for  the  night,  standing  with  a 
hairbrush  in  his  hand  in  the  open  doorway  which 
separated  their  rooms. 

"You're  a  nice  fellow!"  he  said.  "A  rank 
impostor  !  " 

"True,"  murmured  Tyrawley. 

"  Sitting,  turning  up  your  eyes,"  continued 
the  doctor,  "because  you've  sneezed  twice  in 
twenty-four  hours,  and  letting  those  dear  women 
coddle  you  like  a  baby." 

"  I  enjoy  it,"  said  the  other,  leaning  back  with 
a  lazy  smile.  "  I  never  was  coddled  before." 

"  Why,"  said  the  doctor,  coming  in  and  lean- 
ing on  the  mantelpiece,  "  instead  of  being  seedy, 
I  believe  you've  actually  put  on  flesh  since  you've 
been  here." 

"I'm  sure  I  have  ;  I  never  felt  so  well,  or  was 
so  happy  in  my  life." 

"  It  may  agree  with  your  constitution  to  be 
happy,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  it  certainly  doesn't 
improve  your  brains.  Such  a  perfect  fool  at 
whist  I  never  saw  ;  you  used  to  play  a  good  game. 
And  as  to  billiards,  it's  disgusting,  and  an  insult 
to  a  man's  common-sense,  to  do  so  much  as  look 
at  you  now.  Look  at  that  game  last  night. 
Why,  you  let  Miss  Nina  lick  you  to  fits." 


76  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Do  you  think  I  could  beat  her?"  said 
Tyrawley. 

"Well,  a  lady;  but  Bertie,  he's  a  boy,  and  a 
cheeky  young  dog." 

"Her  brother  ;  and  she  wanted  him  to  win." 

"Oh,  you  fool!  You  double-dyed,  unmiti- 
gated fool  ! "  cried  the  doctor,  rendered  quite 
desperate  by  the  other's  look  of  dreamy  satisfac- 
tion. "  What  is  it  all  coming  to  ?  Are  you  mak- 
ing up  to  the  girl,  or  what  do  you  expect  ?  " 

"I  expect,"  said  he,  with  a  rather  melancholy 
smile,  "to  leave  here  in  ten  days,  worse  luck." 

"  If  it  were  my  house,"  said  MacAdam,  "  I'd 
kick  you  out  to-morrow." 

"  Thanks.  What  for  ?  Omitting  to  swindle 
my  hostess's  children,  as  I've  swindled  every-body 
else  ?  "  He  spoke  quite  amiably  and  seriously. 

"Yes,"  growled  MacAdam,  "because  the 
omission  is  swindling  in  you;  looking  so  precious 
innocent,  when  I  believe  you  were  born  with 
a  cue  in  your  hand  and  a  card  up  your  sleeve — 
and  for  making  love  to  your  hostess's  daughter." 

The  stray  shot  told.  There  was  a  fiery  spot 
on  Tyrawley's  cheek,  and  his  indifference  van- 
ished as  he  answered,  staring  up  doggedly  in  the 
doctor's  face,  "I  don't  make  love." 

"Looks  uncommonly  like  it,  hanging  over  her 
at  the  piano,  and  howling  sentimental  songs  in 
that  confounded  tenor  that  sounds  like  honey 
and  butter." 

"  MacAdam,"  said  Tyrawley,  suddenly  stand- 


A    RANK   IMPOSTOR  77 

ing  upright  and  looking  with  considerable  earnest- 
ness in  the  other's  perturbed  face,  "I  give  you 
my  solemn  word,  if  you'll  take  the  word  of 
such  a  disreputable  rascal,  that  I  haven't  said 
a  syllable  to  her  I  couldn't  have  shouted  across 
the  dinner-table — and,  what  is  more,  I  won't." 

"Well,"  rejoined  MacAdam  slowly,  rather 
mollified,  "  I'll  take  it,  as  far  as  the  past  is  con- 
cerned; but  as  to  the  future "  and  he 

shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Besides,"  he  added, 
"you're  rather  a  good-looking  scoundrel,  with 
a  fallen-angel,  '  Lucifer-son-of-the-Morning '  sort 
of  look  girls  admire,  and  love  comes  without 
making,  sometimes." 

"She  looks  upon  me  as  an  old  man,  and 
a  superior  species  of  poacher." 

"Superior  humbug!  " 

"And  as  to  me,  it's 

"  '  The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star, 

Of  the  night  for  the  morrow, 
The  longing  for  something  afar 
From  the  sphere  of  our  sorrow.'  " 

"Oh!  good  Lord,  poetry  now,"  groaned  Mac- 
Adam.  "I've  heard  of  the  devil  quoting  Scrip- 
ture, but  when  it  comes  to  poetry!  " 

"Poor  devil!"  said  Tyrawley  bitterly. 
"Well,  let  him  alone;  in  ten  days  he'll  return 
to  Hades." 

"Well,  I'm  no  party  to  it,  remember.  Good- 
night," said  the  doctor  shortly,  and  he  went 


78  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

away  muttering,  divided  between  pity  and 
wrath. 

That  same  evening  Mrs.  St.  Just  called  her 
daughter  into  her  room,  with  a  disturbed 
countenance. 

"Nina,"  she  said,  "just  listen  to  this.  I've 
had  a  letter  from  your  cousin  John.  I  told  him 
about  the  two  gentlemen  we  had  staying  here, 
and  what  a  charming  man  Mr.  Tyrawley  is  in 
a  house,  and  this  is  what  he  says."  And  she  read, 
as  the  Mrs.  St.  Justs  of  earth  do  read,  without 
punctuation  : 

"'I  am  somewhat  sorry,  my  dear  aunt,  you 
should  have  two  men,  with  whom  I  am  quite 
unacquainted,  staying  in  the  house,  on  such  a 
necessarily  intimate  footing  with  yourself  and 
my  cousin  Nina.  However,  some  friends  of 
mine  know  this  Dr.  MacAdam,  and  I  find  there  is 
nothing  against  his  character.  The  other  name 
you  mention  occasions  some  slight  uneasiness, 
for  I  have  a  faint  impression  that  I  have  heard 
it  mentioned  in  any  thing  but  favorable  terms 
by  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warner,  with  whom  I  became 
acquainted  at  a  Conference  of  the  National 
Reform  Society,  and  a  Breakfast  for  Bettering 
Ballet-girls  without  Religion,  in  both  of  which 
excellent  undertakings  I  am  interested.  I  have 
written  to  them  begging  for  any  particulars  they 
can  give  or  gather,  and  hope  to  be  able  to  report 
the  result  personally  on  my  approaching  arrival 


A    RANK    IMPOSTOR  79 

at  Rooksholm.  Meantime,  my  dear  aunt,  I 
need  scarcely  point  out  the  necessity  of  extreme 
caution,  especially  as  my  dear  cousin  is  now ' 

"H'm — yes,  dear,  that's  all.  Oh,  what  an 
excellent  young  man  he  is  !  " 

Nina  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  she  looked 
up,  a  bright  flush  on  her  usually  pale  cheek,  and 
a  very  distinct  flash  of  indignation  in  those  eyes 
which  had  generally  a  rather  angelic  aspect — 
''radiant  and  grave,  as  pitying  man's  decline  "; 
though,  indeed,  as  angels,  we  are  told,  rejoice 
over  repenting  sinners,  they  may  be  supposed  to 
feel  a  celestial  wrath  at  any  discouragement  of 
a  sinner's  repentance. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  excellent  to  try  and  hunt 
up  things  behind  a  person's  back,"  said  she,  in  a 
very  mortal  manner;  "and  I  don't  believe  any 
of  it  is  true." 

Now,  this  might  have  been  alarming  in  an 
ordinary  girl;  but  Nina's  little  foible  for  all 
things  weak  or  attacked  was  recognized  in  her 
family.  That  slim,  white  hand  had  been  known 
to  descend  with  no  uncertain  sound  on  Bertie's 
ears  when  he  had  tied  a  cocoa-tin  to  Tip's  tail; 
and  it  was  still  narrated  with  admiration  in  the 
kitchen  how  Miss  Nina,  at  five  years  old,  had  got 
on  a  chair  to  slap  the  cook  for  skinning  eels.  A 
remembrance  of  these  episodes  reassured  Mrs. 
St.  Just,  and  she  merely  said,  in  mild  remon- 
strance : 


80  THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  Oh,  my  child,  your  cousin  John  knows  best." 

Mr.  John  Paget's  name  was  proudly  men- 
tioned by  his  aunt  at  lunch  next  day,  and  his 
photograph  was  produced  for  the  inspection  of 
the  unconscious  Tyrawley,  who,  nevertheless, 
conceived  an  instant  and  warm  aversion  to  the 
original.  He  was  a  long-bodied  and  short- 
legged  young  man,  with  a  high  and  narrow  head, 
deep-set  eyes,  and  insignificant  features. 

"John,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Just,  pensively  contem- 
plating his  interesting  physiognomy,  "is  too 
proud  to  wear  a  mustache." 

"Where  does  the  pride  come  in  ? "  said  Tyraw- 
ley, with  a  laugh. 

"He  is  proud,"  said  she  gravely,  "of  the  St. 
Justs'  mouth.  Bertie  has  it  too." 

"I  haver! t"  said  that  young  gentleman  de- 
fiantly— "have  I,  Nin  ?  Mine  ain't  a  button-hole 
like  that  !" 

"No,  darling,  you  haven't,"  said  she,  impress- 
ing a  kiss  on  the  feature  in  question,  as  he  hung 
over  her  shoulder. 

"But  my  nephew  John,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Just, 
"  is  quite  unlike  all  other  young  men;  so  beauti- 
fully steady,  and  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the 
working-classes. " 

"Does  he  take  your  class  in  Sunday-school, 
Miss  Nina?"  said  the  doctor  hastily.  He  saw 
a  wicked  look  in  Tyrawley's  eyes. 

"  No,"  said  she  sedately.  "  I'm  not  sure  that 
John  believes  in  Sunday-school,  except  as  the 


A    RANK    IMPOSTOR  8l 

proper  thing  for  girls  to  do  in  the  country.  The 
'  proper  thing  '  is  John's  religion." 

Mrs.  St.  Just  paused  aghast,  with  a  fragment 
of  cutlet  on  her  fork. 

"My  dear  child,"  she  cried,  "what  are  you 
talking  about  ?  But  there,  you'll  appreciate 
John  better  when  you're  older,  and  so  will 
Bertie." 

"  I  hate  him  now,"  said  that  young  gentleman 
candidly.  "He  wanted  Tip  drowned,  but  Nina 
got  in  such  a  wax,  and  I  said  I  would  keep  on 
sending  him  dead  rats  by  post  if  it  was  done,  so 
he  gave  in.  Oh,  I  say,  mother,  give  me  a  lot  of 
that  apricot  tart." 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN    UNPLEASANT  EXODUS 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  was  a  busy  time  indeed  at 
Rooksholm  ;  there  were  church  decorations,  in 
which  Mr.  Tyrawley,  with  the  deft  and  flexible 
fingers  of  a  chevalier  d'industrie,  excelled  himself, 
but  wherein  he  still  found  time  to  wait  upon 
Nina  hand  and  foot,  and  undertake  all  the  hard 
and  disagreeable  bits  for  her. 

There  were  mysterious  parcels  to  be  tied  up 
in  dark  and  secret  corners,  more  open  prepara- 
tions for  village  gifts.  There  was  a  pleasant  half 
tea,  half  supper,  after  all  the  work  was  done,  in 
the  big  dining-room,  at  which  every-body  sat 
down  just  as  he  was  ;  and,  lastly,  there  were 
the  carol-singers,  who  were  quite  an  institution 
at  Rooksholm,  and  among  whom  Nina's  boys 
figured  prominently.  When  their  heavy  feet 
were  heard  tramping  on  the  gravel  of  the  drive, 
and  they  arranged  themselves  in  a  half-circle 
round  the  hall-door,  Nina  went  and  stood  there, 
in  the  keen,  frosty  starlight,  with  all  the  impru- 
dence of  seventeen  ;  and  Tyrawley,  with  all  the 
imprudence  of  first  love  at  three-and-thirty,  fol- 
lowed her,  while  the  others  were  content  to  listen 
from  the  side  of  the  great  wood  fire. 


AN    UNPLEASANT   EXODUS  83 

It  was  one  of  those  magical  nights  of  winter 
when  every  star  seems  like  a  diamond-point 
piercing  the  vault  of  blue.  No  breeze  stirred 
the  trees,  silvered  by  frost  ;  only  the  breath  of 
the  singers  melted  in  soft  clouds  into  the  trans- 
parent air  ;  every  thing  was  silent,  except  for  the 
singing.  Even  Tip,  sitting  on  his  tail  at  his 
mistress's  feet,  only  protested  by  an  occasional 
shiver,  and  an  expressive  upward  look.  The 
Rooksholm  choir  was  rich  in  treble — those  sweet 
trebles,  whose  unconscious,  sexless  sweetness 
must  surely  come  nearest  to  the  first  Christmas 
song.  By  day  they  were  apple-cheeked,  and  in 
some  cases  apple-stealing,  boys,  but  in  the  dim 
glow  of  the  Christmas  starlight  they  were  muffled 
seraphs.  Nina  heard  them,  as  she  had  so  often 
heard  them  before,  with  a  soft  sense  of  love  and 
peace,  intensified  this  Christmas  Eve  by  a  new 
touch  of — what  was  it — pain,  pathos,  pity  ? 

But  to  the  civilized  heathen,  standing  a  little 
behind  her  in  the  shadow,  it  came  almost  with 
the  force  of  a  Divine  revelation.  The  new 
thoughts  and  desires,  the  stray  notes  of  hope 
and  love,  long  floating  through  heart  and  brain, 
crystallized  into  faith,  almost  into  resolution. 
His  heart  beat  fast,  his  eyes  filled. 

"  Peace  on  earth  and  mercy  mild, 
God  and  sinners  reconciled," 

seemed  an  individual  proclamation  to  him;  and, 
as  the  carol-singers  tramped  round   to  the  back 


84  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

entrance  to  receive  substantial  reward,  he  turned 
with  a  strange  and  child-like  simplicity  to  his 
companion,  and  whispered  low,  scarcely  knowing 
that  he  spoke  it,  the  reply  of  his  heart,  "I  will 
try  to  be  good." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it,  paused — 
but  that  vow  seemed  in  some  sort  to  have  puri- 
fied his  lips,  so  that  they  might  venture  the 
lightest  and  most  reverent  touch  as  the  seal  of 
the  pledge.  Then  they  returned  to  the  fireside 
circle,  surrounded  by  a  heavenly  starlight  of 
their  own — a  half-divine,  half-human  tender- 
ness— which  nobody  else  saw. 

"Your  cold,"  said  the  doctor  by  and  by 
sarcastically,  to  Tyrawley,  "seems  decidedly 
better,  or  you  couldn't  stand  outside  at  midnight 
with  the  thermometer  down  to  zero." 

"Don't  chaff  me  to-night,  old  man,  please," 
said  he,  with  meekness.  "  I  don't  feel  like  it." 

The  doctor  took  a  long  look  at  him,  nodded 
sagely,  and  retired.  What  was  his  unbounded 
astonishment  when,  coming  in  later  to  borrow 
some  toilet  appendage,  he  found  the  gentlemanly 
billiard-sharper  of  Claretown  on  his  knees.  He 
retired  hastily. 

"  Bless  us  and  save  us  !  "  he  muttered,  for  his 
own  relief.  "Honesty,  Bible,  poetry,  and  now 
prayers !  and  all  for  the  sake  of  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
who  scarcely  opens  her  lips;  and,  'pon  my  soul, 
I  believe  the  poor  chap  is  in  deadly  earnest  ! " 

There  was  a  Christmas  sun  of  pale  gold  on  the 


AN    UNPLEASANT    EXODUS  85 

Rooksholm  breakfast-table  next  morning,  and, 
beside  the  appropriate  decoration  of  china  bowls 
of  Christmas  roses  and  holly,  sundry  parcels 
adorned  every  plate.  Their  contents,  save  in 
one  or  two  instances,  need  not  be  particularized. 
Every-body  gave  every-body  something.  Tyraw- 
ley,  in  the  gladness  of  his  heart,  divested  himself 
of  almost  all  his  limited  portable  property  in  the 
way  of  sticks  and  riding-crops,  in  favor  of  Mac- 
Adam,  Bertie,  and  Bertie's  chum;  reserving  his 
spare  cash  for  the  box  of  lilies  of  the  valley, 
white  rosebuds,  and  Neapolitan  violets,  which 
were  his  offering  to  Nina — to  tell  the  story  he 
dared  not  speak.  On  his  own  plate  lay  "Hymns 
Ancient  and  Modern,"  bound  in  white  vellum, 
strewn  with  gold  stars  of  Bethlehem,  with  one 
line  inside — surely  a  harmless  inscription — "Mr. 
Tyrawley,  with  Nina  and  Bertie's  grateful  love." 
Some  instinct  made  him  turn  to  the  Christmas 
pages,  and  somehow  he  was  not  in  the  least  sur- 
prised, though  touched  and  thrilled,  to  see  a  faint 
pencil-mark  and  a  date  against  "  Peace  on  earth." 

No  one  but  Mrs.  St.  Just  was  glad  to  hear 
that  Mr.  John  Paget  was  due  about  lunch- 
time. 

There  was  a  pleasant  progress  of  Christmas 
greeting  through  the  village,  and  then  church, 
to  which  every-body  went.  There  was  one  per- 
son who  felt  as  if  he  had  never  been  in  church 
before — he  had  not  very  often.  Last  night's 
carols  seemed  to  float  like  angels  about  the  dark 


86  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

arches  of  the  old  oak  roof,  and  all  was  bathed  in 
a  still,  snowy,  ineffably  pure  radiance,  of  which 
Nina,  in  soft  white  stuff  like  new-fallen  snow, 
with  a  little  swansdown  hat  crowning  her  fair 
hair,  seemed  the  very  font  and  centre.  They 
sang  together  from  that  new  book  of  his,  and 
consecrated  it  forever.  Her  voice  partook  of 
that  soft  and  quiet  strength  which  was  her  pecu- 
liar characteristic.  They  prayed  shoulder  to 
shoulder;  they  listened  side  by  side  to  the  old, 
old  message,  that  yet  falls  like  dewy  balm  newly 
dropped  from  heaven  on  the  heart  of  every  sinful, 
sorrowful  mortal  who  is  willing  to  receive  it. 

Tyrawley,  for  his  part, — soul,  hands,  eyes, — 
could  only  repeat  the  rudimentary  prayer  of  the 
night  before.  He  looked  it  so  much  that  Mac- 
Adam  had  not  the  heart  to  chaff  him,  as  they 
stood  together  among  the  graves  in  the  quiet, 
green  churchyard,  where  drifts  of  snow  still  lin- 
gered in  shady  corners,  and  where  the  large  white 
clouds  cast  fleeting  shadows  as  they  sailed  over- 
head. A  robin  was  singing  on  a  tombstone,  so 
close  that  they  could  have  touched  it,  and  the 
last  notes  of  the  organ  dismissing  the  worshippers 
pealed  gently  out  on  the  still  air.  Then  the  St. 
Justs,  who  had  been  exchanging  greetings  with 
neighbors,  came  out  and  joined  them,  and  they 
walked  quietly  back,  as  people  generally  do  to 
catastrophes. 

Nina  was  stopped  to  receive  some  rustic  Christ- 
mas gift  from  her  scholars,  and  Tyrawley  stayed 


AN    UNPLEASANT    EXODUS  87 

with  her;  so  the  rest  of  the  party  got  home  ten 
minutes  earlier,  and  were  greeted  in  the  hall  by 
Mr.  John  Paget,  who,  after  receiving  introduc- 
tions to  the  doctor  and  Miss  Hewlett,  rather 
abruptly  announced  to  his  aunt,  in  an  undertone, 
that  he  must  see  her  at  once  on  important  busi- 
ness, and  she  accordingly  led  him,  looking  rather 
scared,  to  the  morning-room. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  where  MacAdam  and  Miss  Hewlett  were, 
in  a  sort  of  procession;  Mrs.  St.  Just,  much 
flushed  and  disorganized,  leading  the  way,  carry- 
ing an  open  letter  in  her  hand;  Mr.  John  Paget 
following,  with  high  head  and  protruded  under- 
lip,  and  a  photograph,  face  downward,  in  his 
hand.  The  two  seated  themselves  with  a  judicial 
aspect  on  a  broad,  red  silk  sofa,  and  the  aunt 
heaved  a  fat  sigh,  and  cast  a  half-imploring  glance 
at  her  nephew. 

At  this  juncture  Nina  appeared,  and  had 
scarcely  met  her  cousin  with  a  cool  handshake, 
before  Tyrawley,  his  usual  sarcastic  suavity 
softened  by  his  new  happiness,  followed  her. 

No  introduction  was  performed  between  the 
two  men;  instead,  John  Paget  looked  meaningly 
in  his  aunt's  face,  and  muttered: 

"Better  get  it  over  at  once." 

"Nina,  come  here!  "  said  her  mother.  Then, 
as  the  girl  obeyed  mechanically,  she  added,  the 
color  on  her  plump  cheeks  dying  in  red  streaks, 
"Mr.  Tyrawley " 


88  THE   APOTHEOSIS  OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

She  tried  to  speak  further,  but  her  voice  failed 
her. 

Tyrawley,  who  had  risen  when  she  spoke,  and 
was  standing  suave  and  cool  awaiting  her  plea- 
sure, saw  that  glance,  and,  with  the  instinct  of  an 
animal  that  has  been  hunted  before,  stood  at  bay. 
His  features  were  expressionless,  except  for  that 
courteous  smile;  but  MacAdam's  sharp  eye  saw  a 
slight  distention  of  the  nostril,  and  a  faint  blue- 
ness  round  the  mouth,  which  told  of  the  rapid 
throbbing  of  his  heart. 

Mr.  John  Paget  cleared  his  throat.  "Well," 
said  he,  in  a  cold,  monotonous  voice,  looking  up 
in  the  other's  face  from  where  he  sat,  "of  course, 
this  is  a  most  unpleasant  business,  Mr. — er — 
Tyrawley;  but  it  has  to  be  done,  and  I  suppose, 
as  the  only  man  of  the  family,  it  falls  on  me." 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  said  Tyrawley, 
stroking  his  mustache.  "Perhaps  you'll  ex- 
plain?" 

"I'm  going  to.  My  aunt,  Mrs.  St.  Just,  has 
just  been  informed,  on  undeniable  authority,  that 
you  are  not  a  proper  person  to  be  received  as  a 
guest  under  her  roof,  and  she  wishes  me " 

"A  moment,"  said  Tyrawley,  speaking  with 
his  usual  languid  coolness,  and  turning  with  a 
smile  to  his  hostess.  "Is  Mr.  Paget  authorized 
by  you  to  deal  with  this  matter? " 

She  nodded,  avoiding  his  gaze. 

"I  presume,  then,"  he  continued,  staring  full 
in  his  enemy's  face,  "the  information  has  been 


AN   UNPLEASANT   EXODUS  89 

obtained  and  brought  by  you,  probably  in  that 
letter.  May  I  ask  if  that  photograph  is  another 
piece  of  evidence  against  me  ?  " 

Now  Mr.  Paget  had  expected  bluster,  con- 
fusion, possibly  servility,  over  which  he  should 
loftily  triumph;  and  he  was  annoyed  by  the  calm- 
ness of  the  criminal;  so  he  retorted  with  a  more 
offensive  accent  than  before: 

"  Precisely.  The  letter  tells  us  the  truth  about 
you,  and  we  identify  you  by  this  photograph." 

Nina  rose  mechanically  to  her  feet,  but  her 
mother  put  her  arm  round  her  waist,  and  drew 
her  down  with  an  angry  "  Be  quiet,  child!  " 

Two  burning  spots  began  to  appear  on  Ty- 
rawley's  cheeks,  and  his  eyes  flashed;  but  he 
spoke  with  even  exaggerated  languor. 

"  Thanks,"  said  he.  "Now  be  good  enough 
to  tell  me  who  are  my  accusers,  and  of  what  I 
am  accused,  before  Mrs.  St.  Just  turns  me  out." 

That  lady  murmured,  "Dear,  dear;  this  is 
distressing  !  " 

Her  nephew  responded  with  a  sneer: 

"  Look  here,  my  good  fellow;  it's  of  no  use 
coming  this  sort  of  thing  with  a  man  of  the 
world.  Of  course,  ladies  are  tender-hearted,  and 
get  taken  advantage  of  in  consequence  by  adven- 
turers. Your  accusers,  as  you  call  them,  are 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Warner  of  Pirley  Park;  and  the 
accusation  is  that  you  are  a  card-sharper,  play 
too  good  a  game  at  billiards,  and  get  your  living 
by  your  wits  and  the  follies  of  others." 


90  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"May  I  ask,"  said  Tyrawley,  "if  you  know 
the  character  of  one  at  least  of  your  informants — 
I  mean  Warner  ?  " 

"I  know  that  he  belonged,  in  some  measure, 
to  your  own  set,  but  he  has  reformed;  besides, 
there's  such  a  thing  as  king's  evidence." 

"Yes;  his  wife's  fifty  thousand  pounds  has 
reformed  Jack  wonderfully.  I  suppose  it  has  not 
struck  you,  when  you  were  digging  up  my  ba'd 
past,  that  I  might  reform  too?"  A  touch  of 
melancholy  softened  his  bravado. 

"  Oh,  don't  let's  have  any  of  this  rubbish!  I've 
got  proofs  !  " 

"  Produce  them,"  said  Tyrawley. 

"I  will,"  said  the  other.  "Mind,  it's  your 
own  doing."  He  took  the  letter  from  his  aunt's 
shaking  hand  and  read  aloud: 

"  'The  man  I  mean  was  years  ago  caught  cheat- 
ing at  cards  in  a  gambling-house;  the  affair  was 
so  bad  that  even  they  kicked  him  out.  I  enclose 
his  photograph,  and  you  will  know  it  is  the  same 
scoundrel  by  his  having  a  scar  on  his  right  wrist, 
caused  by  a  scald  from  some  boiling  water  from 
a  kettle  over  a  spirit  lamp — there  was  liquor 
going  on  as  well  as  play — which  somebody  threw 
on  his  hand  to  make  him  drop  the  card  he  was 
concealing.' 

"Would  you,"  said  Mr.  Paget,  with  a  slight 
smile,  "mind  showing  us  your  right  wrist?" 


AN    UNEXPECTED   EXODUS  91 

Tyrawley  hesitated,  looked  round  as  a  hunted 
animal  looks  for  escape,  then,  with  a  laugh, 
stretched  out  his  hand,  where,  at  the  wrist,  a 
slight  discoloration  and  contraction  appeared. 
There  was  a  pause.  The  doctor  fidgeted  un- 
easily. Bertie  sat  open-mouthed  and  rather  tear- 
ful; his  sister  like  a  statue  of  ice. 

"Well,"  said  Paget,  "this  is  all  very  disagree- 
able. Hadn't  you  better  go  ?  " 

"In  case  you  send  for  a  constable?  Yes," 
said  Tyrawley.  His  eyes  turned  for  a  single 
instant  on  Nina,  and  he  added,  moistening  his 
dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  "  There's  one  fact  my 
kind  friend  did  not  mention.  Every  one  here 
has  been  awfully  good  to  me  till  now,  and  it 
might  go  for  something.  I  was  only  a  boy  of 
seventeen  when  that  affair  happened,  and  my 
own  father's  catspaw.  That's  all." 

He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  looked 
round,  without  looking  at  any  body  in  particular, 
bowed  with  a  rather  spasmodic  smile  of  general 
adieu,  and  taking  from  a  vase,  as  if  absently,  a 
lily  spray  he  had  given  Nina  that  morning, 
quitted  the  room. 

"I  say,"  Mr.  Paget  called  after  him,  "you 
can  pack  your  things  up,  you  know,  and  I  dare 
say  my  aunt  will  send  you  to  the  inn  in  the  pony- 
cart." 

"Thanks,"  returned  a  faint  sarcastic  voice. 
"  I'll  manage  my  own  exodus." 

The  company  looked    at  one    another.      Mr. 


92  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Paget  said  it  was  particularly  unpleasant;  Miss 
Hewlett  and  Bertie  sniffed  a  duet;  Mrs.  St.  Just 
wept,  still  clutching  her  daughter,  who  sat  as  if 
petrified;  the  doctor  gave  a  long,  low  whistle, 
walked  about  the  room  aimlessly,  muttered, 
"  Hang  me  if  I  can  stand  this,"  and  departed  to 
seek  Tyrawley. 


CHAPTER  X 
AbRIFT 

HE  found  him  in  his  room;  he  had  evidently 
begun  to  pack,  and  a  portmanteau,  half-filled, 
was  on  the  ground;  but  when  MacAdam  en- 
tered, he  was  leaning  his  arms  on  the  mantel- 
piece, and  his  forehead  upon  it. 

He  tried  to  resume  operations  when  he  heard 
a  footstep,  but  his  shaking  hands  refused  their 
office.  He  turned  round,  however,  and  said, 
with  attempted  formality  : 

"  Dr.  MacAdam,  I  hardly  expected " 

"Oh,  confound  it  all!"  said  the  doctor; 
"don't  'doctor'  me.  Bless  my  life  and  soul, 
man,  do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  turn  the  cold 
shoulder  on  you  for  what  you  as  good  as  told  me 
months  ago  ?  If  that  Pharisee  is  perfect,  I'm 
not.  Might  have  been  a  lot  worse  than  you  if  I 
hadn't  had  a  good  mother.  More  shame  to  me 
for  doing  her  so  little  credit.  Hold  up,  old  man, 
you'll  live  it  down  if  you  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip." 

But  the  performance  inculcated  was  quite 
beyond  Mr.  Tyrawley.  The  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing was  too  utter.  His  eyes  strained,  his  lip 
trembled,  and  he  caught  the  mantelpiece  for 
support. 


94  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  MacAdam,  whose  eye  detected 
certain  physical  symptoms.  "Steady  there, 
steady!  If  you  don't  hold  your  tongue  and  sit 
down  quietly  for  two  or  three  minutes,  you'll 
have  as  pretty  an  attack  of  palpitation  and  syn- 
cope as  ever  I  saw;  "and  he  guided  him  to  a 
chair,  put  him  gently  in  it,  and  after  a  hurried 
plunge  into  a  drawer  in  his  own  room,  produced 
certain  drops,  which  he  administered  with  a  re- 
mark that  they  would  help  Tyrawley  to  leave  the 
house  without  loss  of  dignity. 

The  latter  was  for  the  moment  mercifully  past 
such  considerations,  for  he  lay  faintly  gasping, 
while  the  doctor  watched  him  with  a  kind,  anx- 
ious look. 

"Yes,  poor  chap;  I  know  it's  bad,  but  you 
ain't  going  to  die.  You'll  be  better  presently, 
and  a  seat  behind  Fireworks  in  this  blessed  east 
wind  will  set  you  all  right.  Yes,"  said  he,  in 
answer  to  the  other's  enquiring  and  grateful 
glance,  "I'm  going  to  drive  you  to  the  station 
myself,  for  I  expect  you  won't  want  to  hang 
about  the  village,  waiting  for  the  pony-cart. 
That's  the  worst  of  these  new  people;  they  must 
do  a  disagreeable  thing  in  the  nastiest  way.  I 
should  like  to  punch  Cousin  John's  head.  Now 
I'll  send  to  my  man  to  bring  the  mare  round, 
and  I'll  pack  your  traps  meanwhile.  Couldn't 
give  me  the  trouble  ?  Oh,  bosh  !  you're  too  ill, 
man.  Keep  your  strength  to  make  a  good  exit." 

Forbidden   to    speak,    Tyrawley  pressed    the 


ADRIFT  95 

other's  hand,  and  looked  up  in  his  face  in  a  way 
which  made  the  good-natured  little  doctor  blink 
and  state  that  he  had  a  touch  of  catarrh. 

"Feel  better,  old  chap?"  said  Mac  Adam,  as 
he  snapped  the  key  in  the  lock  of  the  last  port- 
•manteau. 

"Oh,  yes,  thanks;  all  right,"  said  the  other 

languidly.  "But "  A  look  of  dull  misery 

settled  down  on  his  face. 

"But  what?" 

Tyrawley  hesitated.  "I  shouldn't  mind  so 
much,"  he  said,  "if  any  one  had  said  a  word, 
or  seemed  to  mind.  Doesn't  really  matter,  of 
course.  It's  only  a  sentiment." 

He  was  trying  to  harden  himself,  but  this  is 
most  difficult  when  you  are  physically  down. 

"You  fool,"  said  MacAdam,  easily  reading 
between  the  lines;  "do  you  expect  a  girl  of 
her  age  to  throw  herself  into  your  arms,  and 
vow  to  live  and  die  for  you  ?  Don't  you  know  a 
nice  girl  never  does  those  things  ?  You  wait. 
I'm  very  much  mistaken  in  that  young  lady  if 
she  lets  you  go  away  without  a  word  or  a  sign. 
And  if  she  does — by  Jove  !  old  man,  I'll  tell 
her  when  I'm  writing  to  you,  and  ask  her  for  a 
message." 

"  My  dear  chap,"  said  the  other,  "  you're  too 
awfully  kind." 

They  saw  nothing  further  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Rooksholm  except  the  footman,  who  opened  the 
door  and  helped  to  put  in  Tyrawley's  portman- 


96  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

teaus;  and  who,  being  a  country-bred  footman, 
showed  emotion,  and  wished  Mr.  Tyrawley  a 
happy  Christmas  in  return  for  his  parting  tip. 

"Precious  happy!"  said  that  unlucky  person, 
as  they  drove  off  through  the  mists  and  chill  of 
the  early  winter  evening.  "  My  Christmas  has 
been  knocked  on  the  head,  after  all,"  he  added 
bitterly.  "What's  the  good  of  trying  to  do 
better  ?  '  Once  a  rip,  always  a  rip.' ' 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  doctor.  "  Every-body 
isn't  as  cantankerous  as  that  young  squaretoes. 
Don't  give  up." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Tyrawley  gloomily. 
"'Peace  on  earth  and  mercy  mild.'  The  mild- 
ness and  the  mercy  don't  seem  to  come  my  way 
much." 

They  drove  on  through  the  gathering  shadows; 
but,  a  little  way  further,  the  doctor  suddenly 
uttered  a  low  whistle,  and  pulled  Fireworks  up 
short;  a  slim,  white  shape,  ghostly  in  the  twi- 
light, stood  on  the  turf  under  the  trees. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  did  not  need  the  doctor's  "I 
told  you  so,"  to  quicken  his  perceptions;  he 
leaped  out  before  Fireworks  stopped  prancing, 
and  was  at  Nina's  side,  breathless. 

She  spoke  first. 

"  I  came,"  she  whispered,  lifting  her  large 
eyes,  full  of  unshed  tears,  to  his,  "to  tell  you 
that  if  that  and  the  other  things  they  say  are 
true,  I  am  only  very,  very  sorry;  and — and — 
will  you  please  try  as  you  promised  yesterday?" 


ADRIFT  97 

He  hesitated  an  instant;  he  knew  well  what 
that  promise  would  mean,  smarting  from  the 
shame  of  his  expulsion  from  Rooksholm;  not  the 
heroic  victory  the  inexperienced  girl  pictured,  but 
a  sore,  sordid  struggle  against  small  slights  and 
privations;  scorned  by  the  bad,  shunned  by  the 
good.  Still  that  upward  look,  the  half-pitying, 
half-proud  tremble  of  that  sweet  mouth,  the 
very  perfume  of  the  lilies  he  had  given  her,  were 
inspiration. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  though  it  was  not  without  a 
sigh;  "  I  don't  go  back  from  it." 

"And  I, "she  whispered,  coloring  faintly,  "will 
ask  God  to  help  you.  I  shall  never,  never  forget 
you,  because  you  saved  my  life." 

"Only  for  that  reason?"  said  he.  Forgive 
him — he  was  weakened  by  the  prospect  of  instant 
parting  from  the  only  human  creature  who  had 
ever  shown  him  a  particle  of  love. 

"  Not  only"  she  answered.  Then  the  voice 
of  MacAdam  made  itself  known,  with  a  remark 
that  the  only  train  possible  left  in  half  an  hour, 
and  Fireworks  could  not  do  it  in  less. 

So  Tyrawley  took  that  slender  hand,  which 
had  lifted  him  at  any  rate  one  step  out  of  the 
miry  clay  of  sin,  held  it  a  moment,  dropped  it 
gently,  and  turned  away.  But  the  sound  of  a 
faint  sob  conquered  his  prudence;  he  returned, 
took  it  prisoner  again,  murmured  passionately, 
with  wet  eyes: 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  shall  ask  you  for  in 
7 


98  THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

heaven?  I  shall  ask  you  for  my  heart!  "  Then 
he  found  himself,  he  hardly  knew  how,  by  Mac- 
Adam's  side  in  the  trap,  assenting  vaguely  to 
that  worthy's  remark  of  sage  sympathy,  that 
"  Life  was  not  all  beer  and  skittles." 

"You'll  be  sure  and  write,  won't  you,  old 
man  ? "  said  he,  as  they  stood  together  on  the 
platform,  after  the  doctor  had  insisted,  with  pro- 
fessional obstinacy,  on  regaling  him  with  coffee 
and  sandwiches  from  the  hands  of  a  peevish 
Hebe  who  felt  it  hard  that  people  should  travel 
on  Christmas  Day. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  write;  and  I  shall  take  particular 
pleasure  in  sitting  on  that  prig  at  every  available 
chance.  I'll  take  him  out,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
a  chuckle,  "for  a  spin  behind  Fireworks,  and 
tickle  her  a  bit.  If  he  don't  know  the  fear  of 
man,  he'll  know  the  fear  of  horse  from  that 
day." 

Tyrawley's  heart  was  too  sick  for  amusement, 
or  even  for  the  delight  of  vengeance;  and  he  re- 
plied to  MacAdam's  question  of  "What  will  you 
do  with  yourself  when  you  get  to  Claretown  ? " 
with  a  heavy,  "  Go  to  bed,  for  want  of  any  thing 
better;  and  tell  old  Grenfell  to-morrow  that  I 
have  come  round  to  his  opinion  that  holidays  are 
waste  of  time,  and  I  am  ready  to  get  into  the 
collar  again." 

"I  must  say  it's  a  beast  of  a  Christmas  for  you, 
poor  chap,"  said  MacAdam;  "but  let  us  hope 
things  will  brighten."  Then  the  train  steamed 


ADRIFT  99 

away,  and  the  doctor  went  back  to  Rooksholm  in 
a  very  unholy  temper. 

He  was,  however,  much  sustained  and  com- 
forted by  Nina's  demeanor  toward  her  cousin 
during  the  evening;  of  which  he  immediately 
wrote  off  an  account  to  Tyrawley;  which,  un- 
luckily, owing  to  Christmas  postal  disarrange- 
ments did  not  reach  him  for  some  days.  It  may, 
however,  be  given  here  : 

"I  had  an  awful  lark  this  evening,  in  seeing 
Miss  Nina  extinguish  her  cousin  finely.  During 
the  afternoon  she  turned  her  shoulder  to  him 
whenever  he  addressed  her,  and  answered  him, 
when  fairly  obliged  to  speak,  with  the  extreme 
tip  of  her  upper  lip  and  the  top  of  her  eyebrows, 
as  scornful  young  ladies  can  when  they  choose. 
After  dinner  in  the  drawing-room,  when  only  he 
and  I  were  present,  he  had,  I  suppose,  had  enough 
of  it,  for  he  walked  up  to  her  with  a  patronizing 
air  (for  which  I  could  have  kicked  him,  only  it 
was  needless)  and  said,  'Come,  come,  Nina  ;  you 
should  have  sense  enough  to  thank  me  for  ridding 

your  mother's    house   of  a '     My   word,  but 

my  lady  blazed  out  in  a  white  fury;  I  never  saw 
her  look  so  handsome  before.  She  looked  him 
straight  in  the  eyes  and  said,  as  if  she  were  stab- 
bing him,  '  John,  I  hate  you;  and  if  I  had  been  a 
man  instead  of  a  girl,  it's  you  who  would  have 
been  turned  out  of  Rooksholm,  not  he.  If  you 
say  one  word  more  against  him,  I'll  never  speak 


IOO         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

to  you  again.'  Most  girls  would  have  cried,  or 
been  hysterical  after  that  outburst;  but,  bless 
you,  there  wasn't  a  tremble  of  a  nerve;  and  I 
don't  think,  old  chap,  you'll  need  a  champion 
when  that  damsel  is  anywhere  round.  Mrs.  St. 
Just  is  not  half  bad,  if  she  wasn't  cowed  by  that 
ass.  She  has  been  dissolved  in  fat  tears  at  inter- 
vals during  the  evening,  and  told  me  she  hoped 
some  clergyman  or  missionary  society  might  take 
you  up  and  send  you  abroad." 


CHAPTER  XI 
SONG   OF   THE   SIRENS 

THE  Little  Elijahs  of  Alonzo  Terrace,  having 
got,  in  spiritual  things,  quite  beyond  the  old- 
world  faith  of  keeping  Christmas,  Mr.  Tyrawley, 
arriving  cold  and  famished  at  half-past  eleven, 
p.  M.,  found  the  house  dark  and  silent,  save  for 
the  sleepy  blasphemies  of  his  landlord,  who  had 
enlivened  the  general  gloom  by  getting  roaring 
drunk  early  in  the  day.  No  refreshment  was, 
therefore,  possible;  so  the  lodger  carried  out  his 
own  programme,  and  went  to  bed. 

His  last  waking  thought,  as  the  first  cold  gray 
of  the  winter  dawn  struggled  in,  was  that, 
although  God  and  sinners  might  be  reconciled 
with  a  simplicity  which  he  had  thought  im- 
possible, it  was  altogether  a  different  case  with  a 
sinner  and  his  fellow-man.  He  awoke  in  alarm, 
rather  late,  with  a  hot  head,  shivering  limbs,  and 
an  ominous  tightness  about  the  chest,  but  ac- 
counted to  himself  for  these  symptoms  by  his 
long,  cold  journey;  and  started  with  a  resolved, 
if  sad,  heart  for  the  professor's,  at  his  usual  hour. 

A  damp  sea-fog  made  that  dull  abode  at  Grey- 
town  even  duller  than  usual  ;  nevertheless,  it 


102          THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

seemed  something  like  entering  a  haven  of  refuge 
after  a  storm,  when  he  found  himself  seated  once 
more  at  his  table,  with  the'tfamiliar  prospect  of 
the  pebbly  strip  of  garden  before  him,  and  the 
professor's  strident  voice  dictating  scientific 
terms  with  monotonous  rapidity. 

Grenfell  had  received  him  with  cold  satisfac- 
tion, as  a  man  might  welcome  the  unexpected  re- 
turn of  a  useful  machine  ;  but,  whether  from  the 
fact  that  Tyrawley  had  come  away  without  break- 
fast, because  he  feared  to  be  late  ;  or  that  love 
and  leisure  had  impaired  his  brain-power,  the 
human  machine  worked  ill,  and  the  professor  got 
very  cross. 

"Really,"  he  said,  as  Tyrawley  looked  at  him 
with  a  hopeless,  "I  beg  your  pardon" — the  third 
in  five  minutes — "you're  very  dense  to-day. 
Any  boarding-school  boy  could  spell  'epidermis,' 
I  should  think.  You  have  been  all  the  morning 
over  one  short  chapter,  and  now  it  must  be  full 
of  erasures. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tyrawley, 
in  alarm.  He  was  prepared  to  be  hectored  to 
any  extent  rather  than  lose  his  footing  on  this 
one  solid  stone  of  honest  work  in  his  storm- 
tossed  ocean.  "I  have  a  beastly  headache, 
that's  it ;  but,  if  you  like,  sir,  I  can  make  up  for 
my  stupidity  by  coming  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the 
evening." 

The  professor  accepted  ungraciously,  and 
presently  set  his  ama,nu.ensis  to  recopy  half  the 


SONG   OF   THE   SIRENS  103 

chapter,  while  he  smoked  reflectively  at  the  fire- 
side. A  letter  was  presently  brought  to  him, 
which  he  opened  and  read.  Tyrawley  heard  him 
fluttering  its  pages,  and  muttering  to  himself. 
Then  he  looked  up,  and  said,  in  an  aggrieved 
voice,  "  Mr.  Tyrawley." 

"Sir." 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you."  Tyrawley  stood 
up,  and  turned  with  respectful  meekness  ;  he 
felt  that  his  situation  was  precarious.  "This  let- 
ter is  about  you.  It's  most  extraordinary  that 
MacAdam  should  have  deceived  me  so." 

Tyrawley's  color  rose.  "I'm  sure,"  he  said, 
with  warmth,  "Dr.  MacAdam  never  deceived 
any  body  willingly.  Kindly  tell  me  to  what  you 
allude." 

"To  his  recommending  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tyrawley,  with  a  laugh. 
He  began  to  see  how  things  were  going,  and  was 
trying  to  harden  himself,  but  he  felt  sick  at  heart. 

"Oh,  it's  useless  taking  that  tone,"  said  the 
professor  angrily,  "when  this  letter,  from  a 
gentleman  I  am  well  acquainted  with,  tells  me 
you  are  an  unfit  person  to  have  in  my  house,  or 
trust  with  valuable  secrets  ;  that  you  are  known 
to  be  in  the  habit  of  cheating  fools  at  cards,  and 
pigeoning  young  men  of  property." 

"I  know  who  that  gentleman  is,"  said  Tyraw- 
ley. "  Mr.  John  Paget.  I  thank  him  for  his  kind 
offices." 

"That's  not  the  question,"  retorted  the  pro- 


104         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

fessor  peevishly.  "I  suppose  what  he  says  is 
true  ;  but  I  think  it's  very  hard  that  a  scientist 
should  have  his  studies  interrupted  by  such 
trifles." 

Tyrawley  had  grown  pale  with  mingled  shame 
and  indignation  ;  but  a  thought  of  the  eyes  which 
had  looked  so  pleadingly  into  his,  through  the 
winter  twilight  at  Rooksholm,  nerved  him  to  a 
last  effort.  It  was  possible  there  might  be  a  man 
somewhere  under  the  professor  ;  so  he  said, 
almost  with  entreaty  : 

"  Suppose  I  say  it  is  true,  or  rather,  has  been, 
but  that  I'm  struggling  now  to  earn  an  honest 
living  ?  Suppose  I  ask  you,  Dr.  Grenfell,  as  man 
to  man,  if  you  won't  give  me  another  chance,  by 
keeping  me  on  a  month,  at  a  reduced  salary?" 
His  heart  beat  fast,  and  his  head  swam,  for  the 
professor  hesitated.  He  tried  to  push  his  advan- 
tage. "  I  have  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of 
here,  at  any  rate;  it  has  been  faithful  service, 
though  I  dare  say  I  have  been  stupid  enough. 
MacAdam  knows  all  about  me,  and  he  would 
speak  for  me  as  to  that." 

"Well,"  said  the  professor,  slowly  rubbing  his 
bald  head,  "it's  very  disagreeable,  and  highly  in- 
convenient to  me,  and  sadly  interrupts  the  calm 
of  scientific  research;  but  I  think,  Mr.  Tyrawley, 
you  had  best  go.  I  shouldn't  feel  that  confi- 
dence— let  me  see,  I  only  owe  you  for  to-day — 
that's  about  two  shillings  and  three  halfpence," 
he  fumbled  in  his  pocket.  Tyrawley's  spirit  was 


SONG    OF   THE   SIRENS  105 

broken  by  despair,  but  the  professor's  tendered 
sixpences  and  coppers  were  too  much  for  him. 
He  said  under  his  breath  : 

"All  right,  sir.  Perhaps  you'll  explain  to  Dr. 
MacAdam  that  I  didn't  discharge  myself.  Good- 
afternoon,"  and  left  the  room  and  the  house. 

It  was  dusk;  the  sea-fog  had  been  driven  away 
by  a  bitter  north-easter;  the  streets  and  squares 
were  almost  deserted;  people  were  hurrying 
home  to  fireside  and  afternoon  tea;  but  he  no 
longer  had  any  desire  for  food.  His  head  felt 
rather  wild  now  and  then,  as  he  tramped  wearily 
along  the  wind-swept  streets.  Curious  fancies, 
from  Heaven  knows  where,  of  a  fireside  and  a 
home  awaiting  him,  lifted  the  leaden  weight  of 
despair  from  his  mind.  They  were  so  curious 
that  he  shook  them  off  in  alarm,  and  resolved  on 
a  course  of  action,  in  pursuance  of  which  he 
swallowed  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a  cheap  back-street 
restaurant  to  steady  his  nerves;  and  thence 
made  his  way  to  the  big  house  on  Claretown 
Parade  tenanted  by  the  mother  of  his  boy-pupil 
in  billiards. 

It  seemed  to  him  when  the  radiance  and  warmth 
of  the  well-lit  hall  burst  upon  his  chilled  senses, 
and  the  footman,  with  a  look  half  of  curiosity, 
half  of  pity,  said,  "  Mrs.  Lane  is  not  at  home, 
sir,  but  here  is  a  note  for  you,"  and  tendered  it, 
that  he  had  known  all  along  what  was  going  to 
happen. 

It  contained  a  check  and  a  polite  dismissal. 


106         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

It  swam  before  his  eyes,  and  he  looked  so  ashy 
pale  that  William  the  footman  (Mr.  Tyrawley  was 
always  popular  with  domestics,  because  of  a  cer- 
tain easy  royalty  of  manner)  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  sit  down  in  the  study  for  a  minute  and 
rest. 

"  I've  got  another  note  for  you,  sir,"  he  added, 
lowering  his  voice,  as  Tyrawley  shook  his  head, 
and  sank  on  a  hall  chair.  "  Mr.  Harry  told  me 
to  give  it  to  you,  but  his  ma  don't  know." 

"DEAR  TYRAWLEY  [it  ran],  I  think  it  is  a 
beastly  shame  of  the  Mater  to  stop  my  billiard 
lessons,  just  when  I  was  getting  on  so  well  with 
the  spot  stroke,  because  that  duffer  Paget,  who 
doesn't  know  a  billiard-ball  from  a  marble,  has 
told  her  a  lot  of  confounded  crams  about  you.  I 
told  her  you  talked  to  me  like  an  archbishop 
about  swearing  and  barmaids,  but  it  was  no  go. 
I  have  tipped  William  half  a  dollar  to  give  you 
this,  so  that  you  should  know  I  ain't  in  the  swim, 
but  am,  your  affectionate  pupil, 

"  HARRY  LANE." 

It  was  a  good  thing  that  Tyrawley's  heavy 
mustache  hid  the  trembling  of  his  lips;  though 
William  was  a  sympathetic  witness.  He  got  up 
with  effort,  declining  the  offer  of  a  glass  of  wine. 

"Say  to  Mr.  Harry,  'Thanks  and  good-by,' 
for  me,  will  you  ?"  said  he,  putting  on  his  hat, 
and  he  passed  out  into  the  darkness. 


SONG    OF   THE   SIRENS  107 

It  was  very  dark  now,  and  colder  than  ever, 
but  he  made  his  way  down  to  the  parade,  and 
sat  down  on  a  seat  close  to  the  edge  of  the  low 
sea-wall.  The  white  fringe  of  foam  of  the  out- 
going tide  was  indistinctly  visible  in  the  gather- 
ing night  shadows  ;  but  the  rattling  of  the  small 
pebbles,  drawn  back  by  each  retiring  wave,  was 
audible  enough.  Though  the  sirens  of  the  sea 
no  longer  appear  in  human  shape  to  fascinate 
men,  their  voices  are  still  audible  to  mortals, 
under  certain  conditions,  and  lure  them  to  their 
doom.  They  had  cast  their  fascinations  over 
Mr.  Tyrawley,  and  he  could  scarcely  tear  him- 
self away  from  that  dark  gray  shield,  with  its 
ragged  edge  of  silver,  and  low,  moaning  invi- 
tation. 

Rooksholm  and  Nina,  even  MacAdam  and 
Fireworks,  seemed  very  far  off  and  dim,  in  com- 
parison with  that  sight,  and  life  a  most  wearying 
and  foolish  struggle. 

"  I  shall  come  back,"  he  whispered  to  the 
sirens,  but  there  were  things  to  be  done  first. 
He  dragged  his  aching  limbs  up  from  the  seat, 
and  fought  his  way  through  the  wind  to  Alonzo 
Terrace,  making  plans  as  he  went — or,  rather, 
a  plan,  for  it  was  simple  to  a  fault.  The  song 
of  the  sea  was  in  his  ears  when,  surprising 
Mrs.  Higson  by  the  levity  of  his  demeanor,  he 
stumbled  upstairs,  requesting  her,  from  the  land- 
ing, not  to  disturb  him  for  a  time,  as  he  was 
going  away  that  night,  and  had  to  pack. 


I08         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Is  any  thing  the  matter?"  said  she,  eying 
him  severely. 

"Far  from  it,  my  dear  lady  :  I'm  sure  you'll 
agree  that  all  is  unusually  well  when  I  turn  over 
this  check  to  you,  and  request  you  to  expend  the 
change,  after  taking  what  I  owe  you,  in  sweets 
for  Higson,  junior,  and  the  healing  soda-water  for 
your  husband."  And  Mrs.  Higson  smiled  grimly. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  entered  his  room,  and  his  pro- 
ceedings were  somewhat  curious.  He  first 
opened  a  writing-case,  and  destroyed  its  contents 
with  the  exception  of  a  small  envelope  with  a  not 
very  remote  date  on  it,  which  he  placed  in  his 
breast  pocket.  He  then  took  one  of  the  port- 
manteaus he  had  brought  from  Rooksholm  to 
the  nearest  pawnbroker's  and,  with  a  lightsome 
air,  pledged  it  and  its  contents.  He  returned 
for  the  other,  and  repeated  the  performance. 
He  now  spent  all  the  money  he  had  just  obtained, 
at  the  same  shop,  in  the  purchase  of  a  malacca 
cane  of  price  and  a  small  ring  of  singular  design — 
a  black  enamel  heart  with  a  small  diamond  in  the 
centre — which  had  taken  his  fancy.  Then  he 
again  returned  to  Alonzo  Terrace,  asked  for 
candles,  and  sat  down  to  write.  He  paused  long 
over  his  first  epistle,  which  was  very  short,  and 
in  which  he  enclosed  the  ring,  directing  it  to 
"Miss  Nina  St.  Just."  He  attached  a  label  to 
the  malacca  cane,  with  MacAdam's  name,  and 
wrote  a  longish  letter,  to  be  hereafter  chronicled. 
As  to  the  first  one,  it  only  said  : 


SONG    OF   THE   SIRENS  109 

"  I  have  failed,  but  not  because  I  have  not 
tried.  I  am  not  worth  praying  for  any  more. 
Accept  this,  it  is  black  enough  to  be  my  heart. 
Perhaps  you  can  guess  what  the  diamond  might 
have  represented.  I  shall  never  ask  you  for  any 
thing  in  earth  or  heaven,  except  to  forget  that 
there  was  ever  such  a  person  as 

"INFELIX  TYRAWLEY." 

He  held  his  head  hard,  and  occasionally 
laughed  as  he  finished  his  letter,  and  Mrs.  Hig- 
son  was  very  much  astonished,  and  rather 
scandalized,  to  hear  him  singing  a  fragment  of  a 
Christmas  hymn  as  he  ran  down  stairs. 

"Oblige  me,"  said  he,  "by  allowing  your  son 
and  heir  to  register  and  post  this  letter,  and  take 
the  other  to  Dr.  MacAdam,  Corunna  Place,  after 
school  to-morrow  morning.  Impart  this  six- 
pence to  him,  and  assure  him  from  me  that  his 
copy-book  is  correct  in  stating  that  honesty  is 
the  best  policy.  Did  you  hear  me  singing,  Mrs. 
Higson  ?" 

He  was  certainly  queer  in  manner. 

"I  heard,"  said  she  doubtfully,  "'Peace  on 
earth  and  mercy  mild.' ' 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  test  that  theology.  The 
second  line  may  be  an  improvement  on  the  first. 
Good-night." 

She  looked  after  his  retreating  figure.  The 
Little  Elijahs  are  neither  a  very  sympathetic  nor  a 
particularly  intelligent  body,  but  they  are  human. 


110         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"I  think,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I'll  post  one 
letter,  and  take  the  other  myself  to-night. 
There's  no  peace  for  the  wicked,  and  perhaps 
they  feel  it  themselves  at  times." 

So,  half  an  hour  later,  she  assumed  a  rigid 
bonnet,  and  went  out  on  her  errand.  Meantime 
Mr.  Tyrawley  had  proceeded  to  Cupola  Square. 
Here  he  stood  for  a  few  minutes,  looking  up  at  a 
dark  and  silent  house  tenanted  only  by  a  care- 
taker; then  struck  across  the  parade,  down  on  to 
the  solitary  beach. 

All  along  the  sea-front  lights  were  flashing 
from  the  great  terraces — dinner  parties,  home 
circles,  gatherings,  carriages  rattling  along  the 
wind-swept  road;  for  winter  is  the  season  at 
Claretown.  There  was  not  another  soul  on  the 
beach  as  far  as  he  could  see;  a  few  faint  stars 
glimmered  overhead,  but  the  moon  cast  only  a 
dim,  gray  gleam  through  the  masses  of  cloud 
driving  fast  overhead;  the  sirens  were  singing 
far  out,  and  very  softly,  for  the  tide  was  still 
receding  across  the  sand. 

Before  Mr.  Tyrawley  followed  it  he  did  a 
strange  thing  :  he  selected  a  number  of  biggish 
pebbles  from  the  strand,  and  dropped  them  into 
his  pockets.  Then  he  strolled  out  across  the 
wet  flat,  and  climbed  over  the  low  rocks  to  their 
extreme  point  near  the  tide,  just  on  the  turn. 

He  found  a  convenient  spot,  a  few  feet  of  sand 
hidden  from  the  beach  and  parade  by  a  weedy 
reef,  and  here  he  took  off  his  hat  as  if  he  were  in 


SONG   OF    THE   SIRENS  III 

church — perhaps  he  was,  in  fancy — and  knelt 
down.  In  that  posture  he  took  a  hymn-book, 
bound  in  white  and  gold,  from  his  pocket,  laid  it 
on  a  ledge  of  rock,  rested  his  cheek  upon  it,  and 
waited.  Perhaps  he  prayed;  perhaps  he  only 
wondered;  sometimes  a  wonder  may  be  a  prayer. 
The  tide  began  to  come  up,  and  the  first  cold 
swish  of  it  on  the  sand  sent  a  mortal  shiver 
through  him,  although  the  sirens  were  singing 
their  loudest. 

Wave  after  wave  drifted  up.  It  was  not  so 
cold  now.  He  put  his  hand  on  the  hymn-book 
to  keep  it  dry  as  long  as  possible;  the  stars  came 
out  gently  overhead;  the  wind  murmured  in  a 
softer  key.  It  was,  he  thought,  a  great  deal 
better  than  the  infirmary,  and  perhaps,  as  he  had 
known  so  little  of  these  matters,  the  One  who 
knew  so  much — all — about  him — even  that  affair 
which  had  left  the  scar  on  his  hand  when  he 
was  seventeen — would  consider  that,  and  other 
things. 

The  moon  came  out  with  sudden  brightness, 
sailing  in  a  great  blue  space  overhead;  it  shone 
on  his  face,  calm,  wide-eyed,  smiling,  for  he  was 
no  longer  on  the  Claretown  beach,  under  the 
cold  night  sky,  but  in  a  country  church,  in  the 
fair  sunlight  of  a  Christmas  morning.  Mercy  ! 
Yes,  there  was  Mercy. 


CHAPTER  XII 
IT    WAS    THE   BODY    OF    A    MAN 

"BROTHER,  a  person  named  Higson  wants  to 
see  you.  Rather  a  rude  woman.  She  says  she 
has  a  letter  for  you  from  that  Mr.  Tyrawley," 
said  Miss  MacAdam,  pinching  her  lips. 

"  By  Jove  !  how  did  the  beggar  know  that  I 
had  been  sent  for  to  attend  to  that  old  ass 
Methuen's  tenth  fatal  attack  of  gout  ?  Send 
her  in." 

She  came,  and  remarked,  without  formal  greet- 
ing, "He  said  it  was  for  to-morrow,  but  he 
seemed  in  a  strange  way,  and  I  thought  it  best — 
the  Little  Elijahs  having  Special  Intimations — to 
bring  it  to  you  to-night." 

"And  you  were  uncommonly  prudent,  ma'am," 
said  the  doctor.  "Oh,  bless  my  soul!"  he 
groaned,  as  he  ran  his  eye  quickly  over  the  last 
incoherent  lines.  "This  is  a  serious  matter. 
Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 

"  Down  toward  the  sea,"  said  Mrs.  Higson, 
with  a  gasp. 

"Oh,  Lord ! "  said  the  doctor,  "I  hope  we  sha'n't 
be  too  late."  He  snatched  his  hat,  and  tore  out 
like  a  madman  down  the  parade,  tossing  the  letter 


IT    WAS   THE    BODY    OF    A    MAN  113 

to  his  sister  as  he  passed  her,  with  a  fierce, 
"There,  that's  what  your  gossips,  male  and 
female,  have  done.  Get  hot  water,  blankets,  and 
a  roaring  fire,  will  you  ?  Though,  confound  it  ! 
I'm  afraid  it  will  be  too  late." 

She  replied  with  many  dismayed  ejaculations. 
This  was  the  letter: 

"DEAR   MACADAM: 

"  It  is  all  up  with  me.  Paget  has  written  to 
the  professor,  and  he  has  dismissed  me;  and  to 
your  cousin,  and  got  me  kicked  out  there  too.  I 
don't  know  why  he  should  hunt  me  down  like 
this.  I  never  hurt  him. 

"  It's  no  good,  old  man.  All  your  kindness 
will  never  do  any  thing  for  such  a  poor,  unlucky 
wretch  as  I  am;  but  I  know  you  won't  give  me 
up,  so  I  am  going  to  give  you  up.  That's  funny, 
isn't  it  ?  I  do  feel  awfully  funny.  I  have  written 

the  same  in  a  few  words  to  Miss ;  but,  mind, 

I  don't  want  her  to  understand  all  you  will  under- 
stand when  you  have  read  on. 

"  Make  her  think  me  a  rogue,  there's  a  dear, 
dear  chap,  or  she  might  grieve  her  sweet  little 
heart  too  much  over  my  troubles — the  rogue  I 
am,  in  every  thing  but  my  love  for  her  and  grati- 
tude to  you.  Keep  the  malacca  in  remembrance 
of  the  cur  with  a  bad  name  you  tried,  in  vain,  to 
save  from  the  social  gibbet. 

"I  suppose  it  is  all  right.  I  deserve  my  fate, 
but  I  did  not  choose  the  wrong  road.  I  was  pitch- 
8 


114         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

forked  into  it  before  I  knew  the  right  one;  and 
now  I  want  to  get  out  of  it,  nobody  but  she  and 
you  will  let  me. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  I  cannot  get  the  only  job  I 
am  fit  for,  without  a  character;  and  if  you  give 
me  one,  you  only  get  in  a  hole  with  your  friends 
for  taking  up  a  blackguard  like  me.  I  would  try  • 
being  a  laborer,  but  it  would  land  me  in  my  bug- 
bear, the  workhouse  infirmary,  in  three  days.  I 
suppose  a  diet  of  alternate  pheasant,  Perigord, 
and  champagne,  and  penny  cocoa  and  stale  rolls 
is  not  exactly  the  thing  to  build  up  a  robust  con- 
stitution upon;  particularly  when  you  live  with 
your  heart  in  your  mouth,  on  the  turn  of  a  card, 
or  the  roll  of  a  ball,  and  sleep  by  turns  in  Alonzo 
Terrace  and  swell  hotels — or,  as  the  French  say, 
a  la  belle  e'toile. 

"  No,  old  chum,  I  have  faced  it  out.  I  can't 
go  back  to  the  old  life;  I  hate  it  so.  Slow 
starvation  is  the  only  alternative.  There  is  no 
room  among  decent  people  for  me,  and  I  have 
done  with  my  own  set  forever. 

"  Excuse  blots;  my  hand  won't  do  what  I  want 
it,  and  I  am  getting  to  feel  wonderfully  light 
about  the  head.  To  continue — my  fellow-crea- 
tures evidently  won't  hear  what  I  have  to  say  for 
myself,  because,  I  suppose,  they  have  never  been 
in  my  place.  There  was  a  song  or  a  hymn  I 

heard  Miss sing,  which  keeps  running  into 

my  head — '  Despised — rejected — a  Man  of  sor- 
rows— we  hid  as  it  were  our  faces  from  Him.'  I 


IT    WAS    THE    BODY    OF    A    MAN  115 

thought  at  the  time  that  it  was  I.  T.,  but  it  has 
been  slowly  dawning  on  me  of  late  that  it  means 
something  quite  different,  and  far  above  my 
comprehension.  If  I  were  talking  to  you,  I 
might  ask  you  to  try  and  remember  what  your 
mother  said  about  it ;  but  as  it  is,  I  think  I  will 
go  and  see  for  myself,  and  ascertain  if  He  will 
not  give  me  a  hearing,  if  nothing  else. 

"I  remember  something  to  that  effect  being 
said  at  Rooksholm  church  on  Christmas  Day, 
and  also  something  which  she  read  to  that  old 
shepherd  across  the  moor,  about  a  fellow's  sins 
not  being  so  much  as  mentioned  to  him  if  he 
gave  them  up. 

"The  beginning  of  the  Church  Service  was 
always  a  source  of  astonishment  to  my  mind — 
'When  the  wicked  man  turneth  away  from  his 
wickedness  that  he  hath  committed,  and  doeth 
that  which  is  lawful  and  right,  he  shall  save  his 
soul  alive.' 

"The  wind  and  the  sea  seem  to  be  repeating 
these  things,  and  it  is  so  cool  and  still  out  there 
when  one's  head  and  heart  burn. 

"  If  I  am  doing  the  wrong  thing  it  will  be  of  a 
piece  with  the  rest  of  my  life;  but  don't,  DON'T 
let  her  know.  I  think  I  have  courage — or 
cowardice,  whichever  you  like  to  call  it — to 
wait  till  the  tide  of  death  comes  up  and  blots 
me  out — a  very  poor  inscription.  I  have  taken 
precautions  against  reappearing  involuntarily  or 
causing  a  scandal.  I  know  the  currents  about 


Il6         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Claretown  pretty  well,  and  the  sands  will  be 
better  than  a  pauper's  coffin,  and — who  knows  ? — 
God  kinder  than  men,  except  you. 

"If  she  should  question  you,  tell  her  I  have 
emigrated  to  a  new  country,  which  is  no  lie.  I 
would  have  lived  and  tried  to  do  you  credit,  but 
Paget  won't  let  me.  Good-by,  God  bless  you, 
dear  old  man.  When  you  get  this  there  will  be 
nothing  else  left  of, 

"Yours  affectionately, 

"INFELIX  TYRAWLEY." 

As  MacAdam  hurried,  scarcely  knowing  which 
way  to  go,  along  the  parade,  through  the  fitful 
wind  and  the  cloudy  moonlight,  a  man,  running 
rapidly  from  the  opposite  direction,  cannoned 
against  him. 

"Hallo!"  said  the  doctor,  disengaging  him- 
self. "Seem  to  be  in  a  hurry." 

"I  want  the  nearest  doctor,"  said  the  man 
breathlessly. 

"Well,  you've  caught  him,"  said  MacAdam, 
a  wild  hope  flashing  across  his  mind.  "What's 
it  for  ? " 

"  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go." 

"Keep  on  running,  then,"  said  MacAdam. 
"Though  I'm  fat,  I've  sound  lungs." 

"Quick,  then,"  said  the  other,  "for  God's 
sake,  or  we  shall  be  too  late.  They  think  there's 
life  in  him.  It's  a  gentleman.  Two  fishermen 
had  been  out  to  see  that  their  groundnets  were 


IT    WAS   THE    BODY    OF    A    MAN  117 

all  right,  and  found  him  lying  on  the  rocks,  the 
sea  washing  over  him." 

"Tall,  fair,  good-looking?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  You've  got  him,  sir." 

"  I  believe  I  have,"  said  MacAdam.  "  Thank 
God  !  Let's  put  on  a  spurt." 

They  were  pulled  up  short  by  the  appearance 
of  four  fishermen  stumbling  up  the  sea-wall 
steps,  with  something  in  a  sail,  which  they  laid 
on  the  esplanade  when  they  saw  the  messenger 
had  returned.  It  was  the  body  of  a  man,  cold, 
drenched,  and  with  the  still  features  set  in  a 
calmer,  sweeter  peace  than  Mr.  Tyrawley's  face 
had  ever  worn  in  his  life. 

The  doctor  was  down  on  his  knees  on  the 
gravel  beside  him  in  an  instant,  with  his  hand 
on  heart  and  pulse,  using  violent  language  to 
the  crowd  who  had  instantly  swarmed  round. 
He  uttered  a  sound  of  relief — his  practised  ear 
and  finger  detected  the  feeblest  flutter  of  life. 

"  We  give  him  brandy,  sir,"  said  a  bystander, 
"but  it  run  out  of  his  mouth  again." 

"Of  course  it  did,"  said  MacAdam;  "might 
have  choked  the  man.  Give  me  the  flask." 

He  rubbed  a  little  on  the  lips  and  temples, 
explaining  to  the  spectators  that  his  patient  was 
not  drowned,  but  fainting;  borrowed  all  possible 
wraps,  sent  a  boy  for  a  fly,  and  anxiously  watched 
the  effect  of  restorative  measures. 

They  were  successful.  There  was  a  slight 
flutter  of  the  eyelids,  the  eyes  opened  widely, 


Il8         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  met  MacAdam's  with  a  gaze  of  blank  dis- 
appointment. A  faint,  weary  smile  touched  the 
white  lips. 

"It's  too  bad  of  you,"  Mr.  Tyrawley  whis- 
pered, as  the  other  stooped  lower.  "I  wish 
you  wouldn't."  Then  he  relapsed  into  uncon- 
sciousness. 

The  fly  drove  up,  Tyrawley  was  tenderly  trans- 
ferred to  it,  and  MacAdam,  with  instructions  to 
the  coachman  to  drive  like  mad,  carried  his 
patient  home. 

Miss  MacAdam  was  tearful,  but  practical.  One 
perusal  of  that  letter  had  converted  her  from  dis- 
trust to  entire  sympathy,  and  Tyrawley  was  soon 
ensconced  in  the  best  bedroom,  with  every  heat- 
producing  appliance  in  the  way  of  blankets  and 
hot  bottles,  and  MacAdam  sitting  by  him  with  a 
finger  on  his  pulse;  while  Miss  MacAdam  hovered 
round  with  propitiatory  offerings  of  beef-tea  or 
jelly. 

"Yes,  old  girl,"  said  MacAdam,  "we'll  pour 
in  the  nourishment  like  one  o'clock  when  we  get 
the  chance,  but  we've  got  to  proceed  gently. 
The  poor  chap's  dead-beat,  body  and  mind,  and, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken,  in  for  pneumonia,  and  per- 
haps for  rheumatic  fever  as  well." 

"You'll  keep  him  here,  of  course,"  said  she 
anxiously. 

"Will  you?"  said  the  doctor  grimly.  "Re- 
member his  character." 

"  I  wonder  at   you,  brother,   when   the  poor 


IT    WAS   THE    BODY    OF    A    MAN  lip 

young  man  is  so  ill.  If  he  were  the  very 
worst " 

"  There's  the  hospital,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Alec  !  " 

"God  bless  you,  Bess,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
a  chuckle.  "  He's  coming  to  in  earnest  now, 
and  so  is  fever.  All  right,  old  man,  lie  still." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  made  several  incoherent  remarks 
to  the  effect  that  he  didn't  know  where  he  was, 
and  it  didn't  matter  so  long  as  he  was  out  of  the 
way;  and  he  couldn't  spell  "epidermis,"  because 
his  head  ached;  and  would  the  professor  [excuse 
him  till  to-morrow,  or  stop  people  from  singing 
Christmas  carols  in  his  ears,  and  chucking 
billiard-balls  over  his  chest,  because  it  hurt;  and 
it  was  impossible  to  teach  the  game  that  way; 
and  it  was  a  great  pity  to  bring  him  ashore, 
because  heaven  was  ever  so  much  nearer  on  sea 
than  on  land,  and  the  seagulls  paid  no  attention  to 
Paget,  and  he  was  despised — despised;  and  where 
was  his  hymn-book,  and  he  wanted,  wanted 7 — with 
his  voice  rising  to  a  pathetic  cry. 

"  Steady,  steady  !  "  said  the  doctor,  laying  a 
kind  hand  on  his  hot  head.  "  The  hymn-book  is 
all  right,  and  you're  at  my  diggings;  and  I'll 
punch  Paget's  head,  if  he  comes  within  a  mile  of 
you;  but  you're  going  to  be  rather  ill,  so  you 
must  just  resign  yourself  to  be  looked  after  by 
Bess  here,  and  me,  for  a  week  or  two,  and  not 
bother  your  head  about  any  thing.  Eh,  Bess  ?  " 

Miss  MacAdam  stroked  the  long,  white   hand 


120         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

that  lay  passive  on  the  down  quilt,  in  token  of 
amity.  Tyrawley  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
gratefully,  and  accepted  the  prescription  without 
further  protestation  than  a  faint,  "  Oh  !  it's 

too "    which   collapsed    in    the   saying;    and 

closed  his  eyes  with  a  long,  broken  sigh  of 
relief. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC" 

MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  mind  had  overruled  his  body 
tyrannically  for  some  time,  conducting  it  with 
bewildering  rapidity  from  the  heated  idleness  of 
the  Club  billiard-room  to  the  chilly  drudgery  of 
the  professor's  study;  had  starved  it  and  feasted 
it;  indulged  and  enslaved  it.  Now,  that  ill- 
used  body  rebelled,  in  the  form  of  a  sharp  attack 
of  pneumonia  and  a  slight  touch  of  rheumatic 
fever.  He  lay  wandering  in  the  anxious  mazes 
of  delirium,  with  burning  spots  in  his  fallen 
cheeks,  and  eyes,  as  the  doctor  said,  as  big  as 
saucers.  His  ravings  were  the  piteous,  ridicu- 
lous realities  not  often  reported  in  print — past, 
present,  future,  jumbled  up. 

But  through  all  there  ran  a  thread  of  pathetic 
protest  against  the  world's  bitter  charity,  and 
a  continual  plaintive  refrain,  that  nobody  cared 
for  him,  or  would  have  any  thing  to  say  to  him, 
except  MacAdam,  whom  he  always  knew  after 
a  minute,  and  to  whom  he  would  cling  like  a 
child  to  its  mother,  when  an  imaginary  army  of 
Pagets  stood  pointing  the  finger  of  scorn  at  him 
round  the  bed;  or  when,  in  the  night  watches, 


122         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

that  "conscience  toward  sin,"  which  all  men 
have,  took  dark  and  visible  shape,  and  made  him 
tremble  and  cry  imploringly  for  a  light  and  a 
hand. 

"Alec,"  said  Miss  MacAdam  one  day,  in  a 
perplexed  tone,  as  they  met  at  lunch,  having  left 
the  housekeeper  (MacAdam  had  a  most  unpro- 
fessional disbelief  in  hired  nurses)  in  charge  of 
the  patient.  "Alec,  it's  a  most  extraordinary 
thing,  seeing  what  he  has  been,  but  I  can  keep 
that  poor  man  quiet  with  the  Bible  when  nothing 
else  will  do  it." 

"  It  is  odd,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  do  believe 
myself,  if  the  poor  lad  had  had  a  mother  and 
sisters,  and  a  decent  home,  he  would  have 
turned  out  a  Sunday-school  teacher  or  a 
parson." 

"He  may  yet,"  said  Miss  MacAdam  oracularly. 

The  doctor  sighed  and  looked  serious.  "If 
the  delirium  keeps  on,  and  we  can't  get  in  any 
more  nourishment,"  he  said,  "I'm  afraid  he 
won't  turn  his  hand  to  any  thing  more  in  this 
world.  I  think  I  shall  get  Keir  to  come  and 
look  at  him.  I  want  another  opinion,  and  he's 
great  on  pneumonia." 

Miss  MacAdam  wiped  her  eyes.  "I  really 
can't  help  getting  fond  of  him,"  she  said  apolo- 
getically. "If  he  is  so  bad  as  that,  I  don't 
think  I  shall  go  to  bed  to-night.  He  is  so  gentle 
and  patient,  and  you  never  hear  a  wrong  word 
from  him." 


"I    AM    DR.    MACADAMS    TONIC  123 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "the  agreeable  good- 
for-nothings  generally  make  far  better  patients 
than  your  solid,  reputable  men  of  business. 
They've  learned  to  put  up  with  things." 

Late  that  evening  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  not  bet- 
ter, but  worse,  and  MacAdam,  coming  out  of  his 
room  looking  very  careworn,  said  to  his  sister, 
"  Stop  in  there  a  bit,  while  I  send  round  a  line 
to  Keir." 

"Is  he  so  very  ill  ?" 

The  doctor  nodded  gloomily,  and  ran  down 
stairs.  Dr.  Keir  soon  appeared.  He  was  a 
student  of  the  same  year  at  St.  Matthew's  as 
MacAdam,  and  at  the  top  of  his  profession  in 
Claretown.  He  screwed  his  lips  up  when  he 
saw  Tyrawley,  with  eyes  half  closed,  and  moan- 
ing very  quietly  under  his  breath.  A  long 
medical  council  was  held,  which  ended  in  Mac- 
Adam  turning  away  with  a  very  red  face,  and 
saying  in  a  whisper,  with  a  choke  in  it,  "Oh, 
you  tell  him;  I  can't."  But  a  faint  murmur  from 
the  bed,  a  dim  smile,  and  two  wide-open  eyes 
of  sunken  brightness  greeted  them  as  they 
approached.  Miss  MacAdam  had  slipped  gently 
in,  and  stood  there  too. 

"I  know,"  he  whispered.  "Far  best — God's 
kindness — awfully  undeserved — but  I  didn't  know 
— such  a  sin — this  is  so  much  gentler — than  the 
sea — or  the  workhouse — Friends,"  putting  his 
long,  bony  fingers  weakly  toward  MacAdam. 
"  Bible  !  "  with  a  glance  at  his  sister.  "I  should 


124         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

like,"  he  added  more  strongly,  "somebody  to 
pray." 

They  looked  at  one  another.  "I'll  get  a 
Prayer-book,"  said  Miss  MacAdam;  but  the 
doctor  shook  his  head,  and,  kneeling  down  with 
Tyrawley's  hand  in  his,  began,  "Our  Father,"  in 
a  husky  voice. 

Those  great  and  tender  words,  first  taught  by 
the  Man  of  love  and  sorrow  to  His  fellow-men, 
fell  like  dew  on  that  stray  and  wounded  sheep. 
He  followed  inaudibly  till  they  came  to  the 
clause,  "as  we  forgive  them,"  paused,  glanced 
with  a  faint  smile  in  MacAdam's  face,  said — half 
to  himself,  as  if  answering  a  question — "  Paget — 
yes,"  and  concluded  the  prayer;  then  released 
his  clasp  of  MacAdam's  fingers,  murmured  a 
gentle  "Thank  you,"  to  the  three  standing  by, 
and  relapsed  into  unconsciousness. 

It  was  morning.  The  cold,  gray  dawn  was 
widening  when  MacAdam,  looking  haggard  but 
relieved,  met  his  sister,  who  had  just  risen  from 
a  snatch  of  perturbed  sleep  in  the  passage.  "  I 
think  he'll  do  now.  I'll  go  and  have  a  shave  and 
a  cup  of  coffee,  if  you'll  watch  him;  and  keep 
pouring  in  the  beef-tea  as  fast  as  you  can  get 
him  to  take  it.  Give  him  a  crack  over  the  head 
if  he  says  a  word."  And  the  little  man  ran  into 
his  room  jubilantly. 

Tyrawley  was  out  of  danger;  but  some  weary 
weeks  followed,  trying  both  to  himself  and  to  his 
friends.  He  received  the  announcement  that 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC"  125 

"he  was  not  going  to  die  this  time,"  with  a 
mournful  elevation  of  the  eyebrows,  and  a  mut- 
tered— "It  seems  a  pity,"  which  earned  him  a 
lecture  from  Miss  MacAdam,  which  he  received 
with  meekness,  but  an  evident  absence  of  con- 
viction. He  was  not  irritable,  unthankful,  dis- 
obedient; but  he  was  hopelessly  depressed. 
Scolding,  planning,  cheering  alike  failed  to  rouse 
him,  and  he  seemed,  after  the  first,  really  to  gain 
no  further  strength.  He  .lay  all  day  with  his 
wasted  hands  straight  out  on  the  coverlet;  star- 
ing with  dull  eyes,  and  anxious  lines  on  his  fore- 
head, at  the  same  spot  on  the  wall.  His  weak 
voice  had  but  one  level  note  of  sadness;  his  very 
cough  was  tired  and  hopeless.  The  doctor  lost 
his  temper  at  last — "  Rouse  yourself — swear,  do 
something,  for  goodness'  sake;  for  I've  done  all  I 
know." 

Tyrawley  turned  languidly  toward  him,  not 
appearing  in  the  least  vexed,  or  even  hurt,  "Yes, 
old  man,"  he  said.  "I  know  I'm  an  awful  dead 
weight  ;  I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  that, 
only,  I  suppose,  I  hadn't  pluck." 

"Well  ?"  said  MacAdam   hopefully. 

"Well,"  said  the  other  deliberately,  "I  think 
you  had  better  tell  the  workhouse  people  you've 
got  a  sick  pauper  you  want  them  to  take  off  your 
hands.  I  mean  it,  MacAdam.  I  can't  go  on 
living  on  you  any  longer;  you'd  better  do  it. 
You'll  come  and  see  me  sometimes,  I  know." 

"I'll    be    blowed   if    I    do,"  said   MacAdam. 


126          THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

"Why,  you  idiot,  you'd  be  dead  in  a  week,  and 
all  Bess's  nursing  and  my  professional  services 
thrown  away.  You  have  patience,  and  you'll 
come  round." 

"No,  I  sha'n't,"  said  Tyrawley  peevishly,  put- 
ting his  hand  over  his  eyes;  and  MacAdam  went 
out  quite  desperate.  He  happened  to  meet 
Grenfell,  and  relieved  himself  by  pouring  the 
vials  of  his  wrath  on  that  scientist,  who  blinked 
at  his  diatribes  like  an  astonished  owl.  Then  he 
betook  himself  to  his  friend  Keir's  consulting- 
room,  and  they  talked  the  matter  over  profession- 
ally and  unprofessionally. 

"  The  only  thing,"  said  the  latter,  stroking  his 
beard  reflectively,  "that  I  can  see,  is  to  give 
him  an  agreeable  shock.  Has  the  poor  chap 
got  any  relations  who  have  sent  him  to  Coven- 
try, whom  we  could  persuade  to  take  him  up 
now?" 

MacAdam  shook  his  head,  considered  frown- 
ingly,  then  slapped  his  knee.  "By  Jove!  I'll  do 
it.  It  isn't  fair,  I  suppose,  but,  hang  it !  we 
can't  let  the  fellow  go  on  like  this.  There's 
no  relation,"  he  added,  "but  there  are  friends 
who,  if  I  were  to  bring  them  suddenly  into  his 
room,  I  believe  he'd " 

"Who,"  said  Keir,  with  a  gentle  sneer,  "is 
she  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  MacAdam.  "  I'll  do  it,  see 
if  I  don't,  if  all  Claretown  turns  its  back  upon 
me.  I  know  she  is  in  the  place,  because  my  man, 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC  "          127 

who  was  staying  at   her  people's  with  me,  saw 
her."     And  he  bustled  off. 


Some  weeks  earlier,  on  a  wild,  dull  December 
morning,  Nina  St.  Just  was  starting  for  an  early 
visit  to  a  sick  child  in  the  village,  when  she  en- 
countered the  postman  and  received  from  that 
functionary,  who  had  perhaps  some  inkling  of 
how  matters  stood,  Tyrawley's  packet  and  let- 
ter. She  knew  the  hand,  and  some  intuition  of 
trouble  made  her  turn  aside  into  a  quiet  spot 
among  the  trees,  where  she  read  that  brief  and 
sad  epistle,  which  was  her  first  love-letter.  With 
the  extravagance  of  youth  she  made  a  silent  vow 
it  should  also  be  her  last,  accepting  the  farewell 
as  final,  in  her  young  ignorance  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  all  things  ;  and  learning  the  alphabet  of 
a  woman's  lesson,  to  sit  still  and  face  a  sorrow. 
Hers  was  not  a  nature  to  go  down  under  a  blow, 
but  rather  to  take  up  the  burden  in  steadfast 
pain  ;  so,  when  she  had  put  the  letter  in  her 
pocket,  with  a  thought  of  a  narrow  gold  chain 
which  she  had,  which  should  sustain  the  ring 
round  her  neck,  and  so  closed  her  love  story,  she 
went,  all  the  same,  to  pay  her  visit.  She  was,  if 
any  thing,  more  tender  and  thoughtful  than  usual, 
though  a  little  pale,  and  with  a  touch  of  strange, 
sad  light,  which  blotted  the  childishness  out  of 
her  eyes.  She  went  straight  into  the  morning- 
room  on  her  return,  with  her  head  rather  high. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  in  that  low  voice  which 


128         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

betrays  a  deeper  wound  than  the  wildest  scream, 
"  Mr.  Tyrawley  has  written  to  me  to  say  that  he's 
going  quite  away,  and  to  wish  me  '  Good-by. ' ' 

"  Oh,  thank  goodness  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  St. 
Just  piously.  "  For  what  between  such  a  charm- 
ing man  turning  out  so,  and  John  making  me  do 
my  duty,  and  you  looking  like  a  martyr  at  your 
mother,  and  like  a  tiger-cat  at  your  cousin,  I've  had 
no  peace  nor  rest.  Let  me  see  his  letter,  child." 

"I'd  rather  not,  dear  ;  but  it  is  put  just  as  I 
tell  you  ;  "  and  Nina  retired. 

"That  girl  is  the  picture  of  my  man,"  said 
Mrs.  St.  Just;  "and,  gracious  knows,  I  never 
understood  him  to  his  dying  day." 

Nina  took  her  sorrow  with  perfect  calmness, 
but  grew  even  paler  and  stiller  than  before,  and 
acquired  a  habit  of  paying  stolen  visits  on  week- 
days to  the  little  church  which  Tyrawley  had 
helped  her  to  decorate,  and  where  they  had 
knelt  side  by  side.  The  melancholy  light  of  his 
presence  seemed  to  linger  there,  enshrined  by 
her  prayers  for  him.  But  memory  without  hope 
is  not  a  robust  diet,  and  about  this  period  the 
local  doctor  remarked,  when  attending  Bertie 
for  some  childish  ailment,  that  his  sister  seemed 
to  have  outgrown  her  strength,  and  that  their 
return  to  Claretown  for  a  month  or  so  would  be 
desirable  for  both. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  was  annoyed,  for  she  was  just 
engaged  in  gorgeously  redecorating  the  draw- 
ing-room, according  to  the  latest  aesthetic  prin- 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC"          129 

ciples.  So  she  finally  decided,  the  dangerous 
Tyrawley  having  been  driven  clean  out  of  Clare- 
town  by  the  judicious  tactics  of  Mr.  Paget,  to 
send  the  children  to  Cupola  Square  in  charge  of 
an  old  nurse  of  Nina's  who  lived  in  the  village, 
following  them  herself  in  a  week  or  two. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  MacAdam's  groom 
had  seen  Nina  and  imparted  the  fact  to  his 
master. 

"Bess,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  and  an  instrument-case  in  his  hand,  "  I'm 
going  to  experiment  on  our  patient." 

"  Not  with  those  horrid  things,  I  hope?"  said 
she.  "You  and  Dr.  Keir  are  always  saying  he 
has  no  rallying  power  whatever." 

MacAdam  left  the  room  with  a  mysterious  air, 
and  returned  in  two  minutes  in  high  glee. 

"  I  think  we've  hit  it  now,"  he  exclaimed. 
"That  was  only  my  preliminary  gallop." 

"What  did  you  do  to  him  ?"  asked  she  dis- 
trustfully. 

"I  inserted,"  said  the  doctor,  "a  small  instru- 
ment through  the  ear  to  the  heart,  and  it  sent  his 
pulse  up  twenty  per  cent.,  and  made  him  look  as 
if  he  had  some  red  blood  in  him  somewhere,  after 
all.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  was," — seeing  her  hope- 
less bewilderment, — "I  mentioned  a  young 
woman's  name,  and  I'm  going  to  exhibit  her  as 
a  powerful  stimulant — get  her  in  to  see  him.  It 
will  be  all  right  and  proper,  as  you're  here,  Bess." 
9 


130         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Miss  St.  Just,  I  suppose?"  said  she;  but 
she  offered  no  opposition. 

"  Dr.  Mac  Adam  would  be  glad,"  said  a  tempo- 
rary domestic,  appearing  at  the  drawing-room 
door  in  Cupola  Square,  "if  you  could  see  him 
for  a  few  minutes,  miss." 

Miss  St.  Just  was  not  supposed  to  receive 
male  visitors  in  her  mother's  absence;  but  a 
middle-aged  doctor,  a  former  guest  at  Rooks- 
holm,  might  be  considered  a  safe  exception,  so 
he  was  admitted.  He  eyed  Nina  rather  curi- 
ously, for  he  saw  a  subtle  change  in  her:  a  shade 
of  higher  sorrow  had  replaced  the  cloudless, 
child-like  peace  of  her  countenance. 

"I  suppose,"  said  he  abruptly,  after  a  casual 
remark  or  two,  "you've  forgotten  that  poor 
scamp  Tyrawley  ? " 

He  noticed  with  satisfaction  the  indignant 
curve  of  her  lip,  a  slight  drawing  together  of  her 
delicate  brows,  as  she  answered,  "Mr.  Tyrawley 
was  not  a  scamp,  and  I  remember  him  perfectly." 

The  doctor  chuckled  inwardly,  and  contra- 
dicted himself  without  shame.  "No;  he  was  a 
nice  fellow,  in  spite  of  what  he  had  done  wrong. 
You  wouldn't,  I  suppose,  care  to  see  him  ?" 

Nina  thrilled  a  little,  and  fixed  her  large  eyes 
with  earnest  enquiry  on  his.  "  But  Mr.  Tyraw- 
ley has  left  Claretown." 

"He  must  have  been  uncommonly  quick  about 
it,  if  he  has,"  said  the  doctor  dryly,  "for  I  left 


"I    AM    DR.    MACADAMS   TONIC  131 

him  at  my  house  an  hour  ago."  She  looked  at 
him  with  parted  lips  and  a  slight,  proud  entreaty. 
"Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  staring  at  the  ceiling,  "he  has  been 
through  a  lot,  poor  beggar,  since  your  cousin 
turned  him  out — pneumonia,  rheumatic  fever, 

nervous  prostration What,  Miss  St.  Just?" 

She  was  standing  beside  him,  her  slender  fingers 
on  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  tell  me — is  he — is  he  dying?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  doctor,  rising  and  patting 
her  hand  gently,  "  the  danger's  all  over;  Sut  the 
poor  chap  is  terribly  down,  and  we  can't  pick 
him  up  anyhow;  and  I  think  if  a  certain  young 
lady  would  look  round  at  my  house  for  half  an 
hour  some  afternoon,  it  would  do  more  than  all 
my  physic." 

A  deep  blush  stole  over  her  cheek,  up  to  the 
roots  of  her  fair  hair,  but  she  looked  full  in  his 
face  as  she  said,  "Shall  I  come  now?" 

"You're  a  good  girl,"  said  he.  "God  bless 
you  !  No,  I  think  to-morrow  will  be  best.  I 
must  get  him  up  a  little,  in  mind  and  body,  to 
receive  visitors.  Of  course,"  he  added  kindly, 
"you'll  find  him  a  good  deal  changed,  and  as 
thin  as  a  whipping-post.  All  eyes  and  bones, 
and  not  a  word  to  say  for  himself  ;  so  you'll  have 
to  do  the  talking." 

"I  can  do  any  thing  that  will  do  him  good. 
And  I  don't  care,  Dr.  MacAdam,"  she  added 
proudly,  "what  any  body  says." 


132         THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you,"  said  he,  "  if  you  did. 
Your  mother " 

"Mother  is  my  step-mother,  you  know,"  said 
she  ;  "and  she  does  not  understand." 

"Well,  my  dear  girl,"  said  the  doctor,  rather 
moved,  "if  you'll  come  to  my  house  to-morrow 
at  three  o'clock,  I  think  you'll  save  a  man's  life. 
Bring  Master  Bertie  with  you,  as  a  sacrifice  to 
propriety,  and  Bess  will  amuse  him,  while  I  look 
after  you  and  the  patient.  No,  I  sha'n't  stop,  be- 
cause I've  given  you  plenty  to  think  of.  Three, 
to-morrow."  And  he  took  his  leave. 

Next  day  the  doctor  appeared  to  his  passive 
patient  to  have  gone  out  of  his  senses.  He 
hunted  the  maid  to  and  fro,  as  she  "did"  the 
room,  whistled  Scotch  reels  with  the  greatest 
energy,  and  even  executed  a  step  or  two.  He  in- 
sisted on  bringing  a  barber  to  shave  Tyrawley, 
and  cut  his  locks. 

"  Those  ambrosial  moustachios  of  yours,"  said 
he,  "are  awfully  run  to  seed;  and  there's  a 
velvet  Coat  of  mine,  I  think,  we  could  get  you 
into.  Any  thing  will  fit  a  skeleton." 

Tyrawley  groaned  and  submitted,  as  he  sub- 
mitted to  every  thing.  He  would  have  allowed 
himself  to  be  carted  off  to  the  infirmary  with 
equal  indifference.  When,  however,  he  was 
finally  let  alone,  he  enquired,  with  languid  curi- 
osity, more  as  a  concession  to  the  doctor's  excite- 
ment than  because  he  felt  any  interest  in  the 
matter  himself,  "What  is  it  all  for?" 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC"          133 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  old  Grenfel!  ?"  said 
the  doctor  mendaciously.  "I  think  a  visitor  or 
two  would  do  you  good." 

"It  would  tire  me  awfully,"  said  the  sick  man. 
"But  it's  as  you  like.  They'll  find  me  a  precious 
interesting  invalid." 

"Your  society  is  not  enlivening,  I  must  own," 
said  Mac  Adam  ;  "but  there's  no  accounting  for 
tastes.  Look  at  the  shocking  manner  in  which' 
you've  wormed  your  way  into  poor  Bessie's  affec- 
tions. You  humbug  !  She  looks  upon  you  now 
as  an  injured  martyr,  and  lectures  me  if  I  suggest 
that  your  conduct  is  in  any  respect  whatever 
short  of  angelic." 

"Yes,  I  am  an  awful  trouble,  old  man.  If 
you'll  let  me " 

"Dry  up  now,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  eat 
your  dinner  like  a  Christian  for  once,  instead  of 
picking  at  it  like  a  canary  bird.  No  wonder 
you're  such  an  object,  now  you're  shaved." 

"Please,  I  eat  all  I  can." 

The  doctor  grunted,  and  retired  to  complete 
his  plans,  while  Miss  MacAdam  administered 
chicken  and  jelly  with  feminine  patience. 

Later  on,  MacAdam  entered  with  a  medicine 
glass  in  his  hand,  whose  contents  he  gave  Tyraw- 
ley,  answering  his  languid  "What,  an  extra 
dose  ? "  with  a  sarcastic,  "  Yes  ;  I  want  to  tone 
down  those  lovely  cerulean  hues  in  your  com- 
plexion." 

"Grenfell  won't  mind;  except  that  he's  always 


134         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Interested  in  any  body's  cuticle,"  said  the  sick 
man.  But  the  doctor  had  disappeared  again, 
after  taking  a  long  look  round,  and  saying  care- 
lessly to  his  sister  : 

"  Bess,  I  want  you  for  a  minute,"  while  Tyraw- 
ley  relapsed  into  his  normal  state  of  quiescence. 

Half  an  hour  elapsed.  There  was  a  ring  at  the 
front  door,  and,  shortly  after,  MacAdam  appeared, 
with  an  air  of  exaggerated  indifference,  which  his 
friend  was  too  spiritless  to  do  more  than  observe. 

"Are  you  prepared  for  the  professor?"  en- 
quired the  doctor. 

Tyrawley  turned  his  half-closed  eyes  toward 
the  door  in  weary  assent. 

"  Get  a  welcoming  smile  ready  then.  Here  he 
is."  And  the  doctor  retired  hastily,  and  Nina 
stood  in  his  place.  Tyrawley  gasped  heavily, 
gazed,  and  put  his  shaking  hands  over  his  eyes, 
withdrew  them,  gazed  again;  then,  with  an  in- 
articulate cry,  half  unbelief,  half  tenderness, 
stretched  them  out  toward  her  as  a  child  stretches 
toward  its  mother.  It  was  with  something  of  a 
mother's  gesture  that  she  came  to  him,  took  those 
faltering  fingers,  and  drew  his  sinking  head 
against  her  slight,  firm  shoulder,  and,  feeling  how 
faintly  and  wildly  his  heart  throbbed,  whispered, 
half  playfully,  though  her  voice  was  full  of  tears  : 

"/am  Dr.  MacAdam's  tonic." 

"The  Elixir  of  Life,"  he  murmured.  "But 
this  is  madness  !  Grenfell  turned  me  out,  and 
your  mother,  and  MacAdam's  cousin,  and  the 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC  135 

very -sea  wouldn't  have  me.  There's  no  place  in 
the  world  for  me.  Why  do  you  come  ?  Out  of 
pity?" 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  say,  but  those  big,  fever- 
ish eyes,  those  hollow  cheeks,  with  a  faint,  burn- 
ing spot  in  each,  that  fragile,  hopeless  wreck, 
which  was  all  that  remained  of  the  gay  and 
gallant  Tyrawley,  pleaded  more  eloquently  to  a 
nature  like  hers  than  all  the  music  of  the  poets. 
She  stooped  gently  down. 

"No,  not  pity." 

"  What,  then  ?  Say  it,  because  I  can't  believe 
it." 

She  answered  his  appeal,  lifting  her  head  and 
looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Out  of  love"  she  said. 

There  was  a  pause.  He  drew  her  hands  to  his 
lips  with  a  certain  consecrating  solemnity,  and 
said,  though  his  breath  was  scant,  and  joy  almost 
choked  him: 

"Then  I  will  live  to  thank  you,  and  God,  and 
be  a  better  man." 

Perhaps  the  next  half  hour  is  best  left  un- 
chronicled.  To  people  who  have  never  known 
any  thing  like  it,  and  the  sacredness  of  love  that 
has  trembled  on  the  verge  of  parting  and  death, 
it  might  appear  tedious;  and  those  who  have 
known  it  can  realize  it  better  by  their  own  heart's 
memory  than  by  another's  pen. 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  they  understood  each 
other,  without  explanations  or  vows. 


136         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Mac  Adam  presently  put  his  head  in  at  the- door 
with  a  keen  look  at  his  patient,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  broad,  satirical  smile,  which  put 
Tyrawley  out  of  countenance. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  will  you  go  to  the  infirmary 
now?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "if  Miss  St.  Just  will 
come  and  see  me  there — there  or  anywhere." 

"Can  you  have  patience  with  this  sentimental 
idiot,  Miss  Nina?"  said  MacAdam.  "But  I 
know  you  will.  There's  a  sort  of  provision  of 
nature,  or  Providence  rather,  for  fellows  like 
him.  A  well-conducted  person  like  myself  stands 
no  chance.  Now,  I'll  allow  you,"  said  he,  tak- 
ing out  his  watch,  "in  my  professional  capacity, 
half  an  hour — not  a  minute  longer.  So,  during 
that  time,  you  had  best  be  practical." 

"Yes,"  said  Tyrawley — his  eye  was  bright  and 
his  voice  firm — "we  will." 

"Got  your  plan  ? "  said  the  doctor  sceptically. 

"  I  have,  if  Miss  St.  Just  approves." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  leave  you  to  discuss  it.  Mind, 
only  half  an  hour.  I  dare  say  your  heart's  half 
over  the  place  as  it  is." 

"No,"  said  Tyrawley;  "  it's  where  it  has  been 
since  last  September." 

"Oh,  good-afternoon  !  "  said  the  doctor. 

A  very  serious  talk  followed,  in  which  Mr. 
Tyrawley  displayed  a  rather  unexpected  degree 
of  firmness,  which  even  Nina's  mournful  looks 
and  anxious  objections  failed  to  shake. 


"i  AM  DR.  MACADAM'S  TONIC"          137 

"No,"  said  he  finally,  though  it  was  with  a 
heavy  sigh  and  a  wistful  look,  "  you  shall  promise 
me  nothing — you  shall  hold  yourself  free  as  air. 
I  sha'n't  be  anywhere  near  to  trouble  you;  but 
you  will  know  that  nothing  shall  daunt,  or  de- 
press, or  dishearten  me;  and  no  power  on  earth 
shall  send  me  back  to  the  old,  bad  life.  I  am 
your  humble  servant,  your  rescued  castaway — 
that's  all." 

''Am  I  to  be  nothing  to  you?"  said  she 
timidly. 

"My  queen  and  my  patron  saint;  my  friend — 
for  a  year  at  any  rate,"  said  he.  "And  then — and 
then,  if  what  I  am  thinking  of  succeeds,  I  shall 
ask  you  to  see  me  once — if  you  haven't  forgotten 
all  about  me — and,  if  you  can  and  will,  to  give 
me  a  hope  to  work  for — but  no  promise  ?  " 

"  But,  if  I  choose  to  promise  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he,  almost  with  sternness.  "I 
know  I'm  too  awfully  selfish  and  presumptuous 
even  in  saying  so  much,  but  I  tried  to  die  out  of 
your  way,  Nina;  and,  as  that  dear  old  chap  down 
stairs  wouldn't  let  me,  the  only  other  thing  I 
can  do  is  to  rise  to  a  better  life,  by  God's  help, 
for  your  sake — and  /  will !  " 

"The  half  hour,"  said  the  doctor,  entering, 
"  has  unfeelingly  run  out,  and  Bertie  is  getting 
fractious.  I  shall  be  down  stairs." 

"When  shall  I  come  and  see  you  again?" 
asked  she. 

"  That,"  said  Tyrawley,  with  a  sigh, "  I  suppose 


138         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

you  had  better  arrange  with  Mac.  He'll  know 
what  is  right.  But" — with  excessive  meekness 
— "you'll  let  a  fellow  see  you  once  more,  at  any 
rate,  before  that  year  of  probation  ?" 

Then  they  parted.  Theirs  was  not  love  of  a 
nature  that  needs  many  caresses  for  its  suste- 
nance; the  few  that  occur  are  almost  sacramen- 
tal, and  only  mark  supreme  moments  of  joy  or 
pain;  but  there  are  caresses  of  look,  and  tone, 
and  even  thought,  which  mean  perhaps  more. 

MacAdam  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  Nina  might 
come  again  in  about  a  week.  "And  after  that," 
he  added,  with  the  national  prudence  which  had 
temporarily  deserted  him,  "you  must  manage 
your  own  affairs.  In  fact,  I  think  of  taking  him 
into  the  country.  I've  got  a  horse  or  two  I  want 
to  look  after  on  a  farm  in  the  next  county,  and 
the  change  will  do  him  good.  The  winds  get  so 
bitter  here  in  spring." 

Nina  breathed  low  and  earnest  thanks,  and 
went  away  with  Bertie,  who  opined  that  she  had 
been  blubbering  over  Tyrawley;  but  he  didn't 
mind,  as  he  was  a  jolly  fellow,  and  it  would  put 
that  beast  John  in  no  end  of  a  wax  if  he  knew 
it.  "And  you  understand,  Nin,  I'm  not  going 
to  tell  any  body,"  the  young  gentleman  concluded 
sagely. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"i  INTEND  TO  DISAPPEAR" 

"  THAT'S  the  third  time  I've  been  up  in  three 
hours,"  said  the  doctor  gleefully,  as  he  entered 
Miss  MacAdam's  prim  drawing-room,  guiltless  of 
aesthetic  vanities,  "and  I'm  blessed  if  he  hasn't 
been  as  fast  asleep  as  a  baby  all  the  while.  Love 
beats  sleeping-draughts,  and  no  mistake.  Keir's 
agreeable  shock  was  an  inspiration.  Hallo! 
there's  his  bell.  I  must  overhaul  him  now  he's 
awake,  in  case  of  reaction." 

But  there  was  no  reaction,  and  the  doctor's 
abrupt  question,  "  Now,  which  of  Bess's  invalid 
fallals  will  you  have  as  a  pick-me-up  ? "  elicited 
a  modest,  "  I  don't  want  any  invalid  fallals, 
thank  you.  I  should  like  a  chop,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

"  Oh,  Strephon,  Strephon  !  what  an  anticlimax. 
Perhaps  you  could  eat  two  ?  " 

"I'll  try,"  said  the  other  composedly.  "I 
mean  to  get  well,  MacAdam,  and  not  lie  here 
like  a  wet  blanket;  and  oh!  I  want  to  tell  you 
my  plans."  His  cheek  flushed,  his  eye  light- 
ened. 

"Steady,   steady,  old  man!     I  don't  want  to 


140         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

hear  a  word  till  that  chop  has  gone  down.  Shut 
up,  or  you  won't  be  able  to  digest  it." 

Tyrawley  meekly  obeyed,  discussed  his  chops 
with  appetite,  and  resigned  himself  afterward  to 
the  doctor's  orders  of  another  rest. 

"In  fact,"  said  the  latter,  "you  had  better 
not  talk  any  more  to-night.  We'll  have  a  long 
jaw  to-morrow,  if  you  like,  but  that  pulse  is  a  bit 
rackety  still.  Lie  quiet,  and  let  Bess  come  and 
read  you  a  stupid  novel." 

Next  day  the  improvement  in  Tyrawley  was 
more  marked  than  ever;  and  after  Mac  Adam 
had,  in  the  morning,  thoroughly  snubbed  him, 
and  made  him  consume  a  mighty  square  meal, 
that  good  physician,  in  the  afternoon,  resignedly 
drew  a  chair  to  the  bedside,  and  said: 

"  Now,  old  man,  for  this  scheme  of  yours.  I 
expect  it's  too  romantic  to  stand  my  rough  hand- 
ling." 

"It's  very  far  from  being  romantic,"  said 
Tyrawley,  looking  straight  in  his  face,  "though 
it  sounds  rather  peculiar  at  first.  I  intend  to 
disappear  for  a  year." 

"  Bless  us  and  save  us!  What  does  this  lunatic 
mean?" 

"  I'm  perfectly  sober,  and  rather  sad.  I  want 
to  disappear  for  a  year  from  the  knowledge  of 
all  mankind;  to  go  right  down  under  the  surface 
of  society,  by  my  own  free  will,  instead  of  being 
kicked  there;  and  " — he  added,  his  face  kindling 
with  a  sterner  light  than  those  graceful  and  easy 


"i  INTEND  TO  DISAPPEAR"  141 

features  had  ever  worn  before — "  to  rise  again 
by  my  own  efforts.  But  I  must  have  a  start,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  Old  Grenfell "  began  MacAdam. 

"No,"  said  the  other,  with  a  smile  and  a 
frown.  "And  no  more  recommendations,  to  get 
my  only  friend  in  trouble;  but  you  see,  old  man, 
when  I  started  to  perform  that  piece  of  cowardice 
on  the  rocks,  I  got  rid  of  all  my  worldly  posses- 
sions except  those  clothes  on  the  chair!  So" — 
He  stopped.  The  words  seemed  to  stick  in  his 
throat,  but  he  forced  them  out — "I  want  to 
know  if  you'll  put  the  finishing-touch  to  all  your 
kindness;  and,  sink  or  swim,  I'll  never  trouble 
you  again,  except  to  report  myself  and  thank 
you  in  a  year  from  the  day  I  say  '  good-by.  ' 

"  Well,  what's  the  damage  ?  "  said  MacAdam. 

"Will  you  lend  me  three  pounds  for  six 
months?  If  I  don't  pay  it  then,  you'll  never  see 
me  again." 

"No,  I  will  not,"  said  the  doctor  violently. 
"  I  won't  be  a  party  to  any  cracked-brain  scheme 
that  I'm  to  be  kept  in  the  dark  about.  Nice 
chap  you  are  to  go  under  the  surface,'  and  ex- 
pect to  come  up  like  a  jack-in-the-box,  with  a 
chest  like  yours,  and  just  out  of  a  dangerous 
illness  !  " 

"But  listen,"  pleaded  Tyrawley,  who  looked 
considerably  diminished.  "  Upon  my  honor  ! 
I've  thought  it  all  out  in  the  most  practical " 

"Practical    fiddlestick!      Oh,    I   see   through- 


142          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

you !  Starvation  board  and  lodging,  while  you're 
seeking  some  twopenny-ha'penny  clerkship,  in 
some  hole  where  they're  not  particular  as  to 
character,  at  boy's  wages.  Stew  yourself  up  in 
some  back  office,  full  of  carbonic  acid  gas,  for 
twelve  hours  a  day  !  " 

Tyrawley  shook  his  head.  "No,"  said  he. 
"I  should  want  some  recommendation  even  for 
that.  I  know  the  sort  of  thing,  for  I  had  an 
acquaintance  who  tried  it,  in  a  spasm  of  disgust 
at  the  other  thing.  You  answer  an  advertise- 
ment, you  find  a  hundred  lads  fresh  from  school, 
and  two  dozen  ne'er-do-weels  like  yourself,  in 
various  stages  of  seediness,  looking  daggers 
at  each  other.  Say  I'm  early  in  the  field,  and 
my  coat  has  not  begun  to  turn  green,  I  get 
the  favor  of  an  interview  with  the  manager,  who 
looks  me  over,  and  more  or  less  civilly  puts  the 
inevitable  question  of,  '  Then,  may  I  ask  how 
a  man  of  your  appearance  and  education  offers 
to  do  a  boy's  work  at  boy's  wages  ? '  If  I  say 
'Because  I  can't  get  any  other,' he  h'm's  and 
ha's,  and  enquires  for  my  character,  and  when  I 

reply  with  'Unluckily,  I  haven't  got  one,  but 

he  dismisses  me  with  a  pitying  shake  of  the 
head  or  a  '  just-what-I-expected  '  sort  of  laugh. 
I  know,"  he  concluded,  with  plaintive  simplicity, 
"  that  my  appearance  is  against  me,  for  that  sort 
of  thing.  Somehow  I  can't  look  business-like; 
though  I  can't  tell  where  the  failure  lies." 

MacAdam  gave  a  short,  scornful  laugh.      "  No, 


"I   INTEND    TO    DISAPPEAR  143 

my  dear  fellow;  it's  all  out  of  your  line,  clerk- 
ing is." 

"But  wait,"  said  the  other  eagerly.  "  I  give 
you  my  word  that  I'm  not  going  in  for  that  sort 
of  thing  at  all.  Quite  the  opposite." 

"Oh,  the  opposite!"  said  Dr.  MacAdam, 
still  sarcastic.  "  Navvying,  perhaps.  A  pick-axe 
would  look  well  in  this  mighty  grasp."  And  he 
took  up  slightingly  a  white  and  wasted  member 
which  lay  on  the  coverlet. 

"Don't!"  said  the  other  ruefully.  "You 
make  a  beggar  feel  so  small.  You  said  I  should 
get  my  biceps  back  again.  Besides,  it  isn't  nav- 
vying;  it's  something  where  manners  and  inches 
count,  and  you  always  say,"  insinuatingly,  "that 
I'm  a  civil  customer." 

"Oh,  yes!  you've  a  smooth,  carneying  tongue, 
and  a  way  of  making  eyes,  when  you  choose,  that 
would  wheedle  the  bit  out  of  a  horse's  mouth; 
but " 

"Thanks,  old  man,"  said  Tyrawley,  who,  far 
from  being  insulted,  seemed  inspirited  by  this 
remark.  "Then,"  he  added,  offering  the  best 
illustration  in  his  power  of  its  truth,  by  fixing  his 
eyes  imploringly  on  the  doctor's,  "will  you  lend 
me  that  three  pound  ?  It's  quite  true  that  I  want 
it  to  live  on  till  I  can  turn  round;  and  for  one 
other  thing." 

"  I  hate  mysteries,"  said  MacAdam  peevishly. 
"  And  I'm  sure  this  Utopian  idea  of  yours  is 
some  bosh.  You'd  tell  me  about  it  fast  enough, 


144         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

if  it  wasn't.  I  know  you.  No,  I  sha'n't  lend  it 
you." 

Tyrawley  reflected,  sighed,  pulled  his  mustache, 
looked  at  MacAdam  to  detect  any  sign  of  yield- 
ing, and  proposed  a  compromise.  "  If  you  know 
what  the  show  is  in  a  month  from  the  time  I  start, 
will  that  do  ?  " 

"No,"  snorted  the  doctor,  "it  won't.  I 
sha'n't  give  my  consent  to  a  new  form  of  suicide, 
any  more  than  I  did  to  the  old  one." 

"Very  well,"  said  Tyrawley,  "then  I  won't 
ask  you  any  more.  God  knows,  you've  done 
more  than  a  brother  would  do,  already.  I'll 
stick  to  my  plan,  even  if  I  sweep  a  crossing  and 
sleep  in  a  doorway  for  a  start." 

The  'doctor  flung  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
plucked  his  purse  out  of  his  pocket,  extracted 
three  sovereigns,  and  dropped  them  on  the 
coverlet. 

"There,  you  pig-headed  ass;  have  your  way, 
and  much  good  may  it  do  you.  Nice  start  you'll 
make  on  three  pounds  !  But  mind,  that  inter- 
view after  a  month  is  a  part  of  the  bargain,  if 
only  for  a  medical  inspection,  and  you'll  have  to 
pass  the  doctor  before  I  let  you  out." 

Tyrawley  wrung  his  hand,  in  spite  of  his  resist- 
ance, fingered  the  sovereigns  with  more  affection 
than  he  had  ever  displayed  toward  ten  times  that 
amount,  come  by  chance  or  chicanery,  and  whis- 
pered,— because  the  struggle  had  been  rather  a 
hard  one  under  present  conditions,  and  perhaps 


"i  INTEND  TO  DISAPPEAR"  145 

because  he  did  not  in  his  secret  heart  feel  sure  of 
success, — "  Thank  you,  old  man.  I'll  thank  you 
better  some  day." 

"All  right,"  said  the  doctor,  rubbing  his  nose 
irritably.  "I  suppose  now  I've  got  to  build  you 
up,  so  that  you  don't  get  run  down  when  this 
mighty  project  is  in  the  a,  b,  c  stage  ?  But  I 
know  how  it  "11  end  ;  not  with  a  doctor,  but  an 
undertaker;  or,  at  the  best,  that  precious  infirm- 
ary of  yours." 

"No,"  said  Tyrawley  doggedly.  "If  it 
conies  to  that,  I  can  creep  into  a  ditch  or  a  wood 
like  any  other  hunted  animal,  and  make  a  decent 
end  there;  but  I'm  going  to  live  and  work,  old 
chap,"  he  added,  recovering  his  spirits,  "  so  that 
you  and  she  mayn't  be  ashamed  of  me,  after  all." 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE    FIRST    PLUNGE 

HOPE  is  a  great  medicine,  and  from  that  hour 
Mr.  Tyrawley's  recovery  was  rapid.  He  was 
soon  up,  dressed,  occupying  the  invalid  arm-chair 
by  the  drawing-room  fire,  and  had  just  begun  to 
creep  out  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  street,  looking 
large-eyed  and  haggard,  but  cheerful,  when  one 
day  a  note  was  brought  him,  which  made  the 
color  rush  to  his  cheek  and  his  hand  tremble. 

"Mv  DEAREST  FRIEND  [It  was  not  a  very 
lover-like  beginning,  but  it  was  characteristic]: 
We  are  going  abroad  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Mother  has  heard — I  think  my  cousin  must  have 
found  it  out — that  I  came  to  see  you  at  Dr.  Mac- 
Adam's,  and,  of  course,  when  she  asked  me  about 
it,  I  told  her  the  truth.  She  is  very  much  vexed, 
and  I  am  sorry  to  vex  her,  for  she  has  always 
been  kind,  though  of  course  she  cannot  under- 
stand as  my  own  mother  would  have  done.  She 
thinks  if  she  takes  me  away  I  shall  forget  you  ; 
but  I  never  shall,  nor  have  a  word  said  against 
you.  In  a  year,  I  hope,  we  shall  meet  again,  and 
have  a  long,  long  talk.  Meanwhile,  perhaps,  I 
shall  hear  from  Dr.  MacAdam  how  you  are  get- 


THE    FIRST    PLUNGE  147 

ting  on,  as  mother  says  we  must  not  write  to  one 
another;  but  that  will  not  make  any  difference 
in  our  remembrance,  will  it  ?  I  have  persuaded 
mother  to  let  me  see  you  for  five  minutes  in  the 
Octagon  Gardens  to-morrow,  at  three  o'clock,  to 
say 'good-by.'  It  will  not  be  a  nice  'good-by'; 
for  there  is  always  such  a  crowd  when  the  band 
plays;  but  it  will  be  better  than  nothing. 

"First,  however,  ask  Dr.  MacAdam  if  he  is 
sure  it  is  quite,  quite  safe  for  you  to  come  out, 
and  send  back  word  '  yes  '  or  '  no '  by  old  nurse, 
who  brings  this.  If  it  is  '  no,'  write  me  one  letter 
to  say  'good-by'  for  the  present, — mother  says 
I  may  receive  it, — and  believe  me, 

"  Always  yours, 

"NINA." 

Of  course  "yes  "was  the  reply,  and  anxious 
were  the  looks  cast  by  those  two  unprosperous 
lovers  at  the  evening  sky;  but  fortune  smiled, 
and  the  sun  was  bright  when  Tyrawley  started 
(naturally  too  soon)  for  his  limited  interview. 

"  I  shall  be  somewhere  on  the  ground,"  said  the 
doctor,  "with  smelling  salts  and  a  stretcher. 
You're  still  a  trifle  shaky  for  rapturous  adieus." 

It  was,  indeed,  a  brief  and  poor  farewell  to  give 
him  heart  for  twelve  months  such  as  lay  before 
him,  but  a  heart  that  has  known  starvation  can 
live  on  very  little;  and  as  to  Nina,  she  was  sus- 
tained by  that  unreasoning  faith  in  the  future 
which  belongs  to  extreme  youth. 


148         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

They  stood  in  the  quietest  corner  they  could 
find,  looking  into  one  another's  faces;  two  big 
tears  stood  on  Nina's  eyelashes,  and  there  was  a 
quiver  of  the  muscles  round  Tyrawley's  mouth, 
not  altogether  attributable  to  physical  weakness. 
The  gay  crowd,  in  winter  furs  and  velvets, 
drifted  past  them  like  a  dream.  The  band  of 
the  Lancers,  discoursing  elaborate  music,  might 
have  been  the  wind  in  the  trees  for  aught  they 
cared. 

"A  year  is  such  a  long  time,"  said  she,  in  a 
voice  like  the  moan  of  a  wounded  dove. 

"Yes,"  said  he;  "  but  think  what  it  will  be  to 
meet,  after  all;  and  I  shall  be  working  and  learn- 
ing to  love  you  better — I  suppose  that's  possible, 
though  I  can't  at  present  see  how  it  can  be;  and, 
whatever  I  am,  it  shall  be  something  honest  and 
honorable — that  you,  anyhow,  won't  be  ashamed 
of.  I'll  keep  my  queen's  white  rose  unstained, 
and  her  colors  out  of  the  mire." 

"And  I  shall  be  always  asking  God  to  help 
you.  You'll  go  to  church,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  will,"  said  he  emphatically;  "and  though 
perhaps  you  would  be  rather  shocked,  or  inclined 
to  laugh,  if  you  knew  what  your  knight  was  going 
to  do,  you  would  understand,  if  nobody  else  does, 
that  it  is  an  awful  lot  better  than  my  wretched 
past. " 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  good;  but  is  it  any 
thing  very  hard  ?  " 

"  Nin,  mother  says  the  five  minutes  are  up," 


THE    FIRST    PLUNGE  149 

remarked  Bertie,  with  reluctance.  "I  said  I 
didn't  know  where  you  were,  but  she  pointed  you 
out,  so  I  had  to  come.  But  I  shouldn't  mind  her, 
if  I  were  you.  She  can't  do  more  than  scold,  so 
you  might  as  well  have  a  minute  or  two  more 
spooning.  Don't  mind  me,"  and  he  stuck  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  elaborately  turned  his 
back. 

"  I  must  not  set  your  mother  more  against  me, 
however,"  said  Tyrawley  reluctantly. 

He  held  out  his  hand,  took  hers,  stooped  his 
head  over  it  for  a  single  instant,  with  a  whispered 
"  God  bless  you!  "  which  her  faltering  lips  could 
scarcely  echo.  Then  they  walked  back  silently, 
side  by  side,  to  Mrs.  St.  Just,  who  looked  par- 
ticularly fat  and  flurried,  and  by  no  means  happy 
in  the  character  of  a  stern  parent,  especially  when 
her  feminine  eyes  noticed  the  very  distinct  signs 
of  recent  illness  in  Tyrawley,  as  he  removed  his 
hat  in  farewell. 

"  Goodness'  sake  !  Don't  stop  about  here," 
she  said,  half  irritably,  half  compassionately. 
"  Go  home,  and  get  to  bed,  there's  a  good  man, 
and  forget  all  this — this  nonsense." 

He  smiled  faintly,  cast  a  long,  expressive  look 
at  Nina,  and  left  the  gardens. 

MacAdam  was  hovering  outside,  and  pounced 
upon  him.  For  once,  however,  he  abstained 
from  chaff,  and  merely  said  : 

"Come  along,  old  man  ;  you  don't  look  par- 
ticularly grand.  Come  and  have  a  cup  of  Bess's 


150         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

tea,  and  lie  down,  and  consider  your  mad  plans 
at  leisure." 

Tyrawley  thanked  him  mournfully,  but  had  not 
a  word  to  say  just  then;  for  thirty-four  knows 
more  of  the  painfulness  of  life  than  eighteen. 

It  was  a  raw,  bleak  morning.  A  chill,  heavy 
fog  hung  over  Claretown  ;  sea  and  sky  were 
leaden  gray.  A  small  and  shabby  bag,  contain- 
ing all  Mr.  Tyrawley's  earthly  possessions, 
stood  ready  in  MacAdam's  hall,  and  the  owner 
sat  facing  his  host,  for  the  last  time,  at  a  well- 
laden  breakfast  table,  to  which  a  certain  sickness 
of  heart,  of  which  he  was  half  ashamed,  had  pre- 
vented his  doing  any  justice  whatever.  Miss 
MacAdam  had  departed,  rather  tearful,  to  see  to 
the  packing  of  a  small  luncheon-basket,  and  even 
the  little  doctor  was  sober  and  taciturn  at  the 
prospect  of  turning  the  wild  hawk  his  kindness  had 
tamed  into  the  social  desert  once  more.  Tyraw- 
ley tried  to  pull  himself  together,  breaking  the 
silence  with  a  laugh  which  thinly  disguised  a  sigh. 

"I  feel,"  he  said,  "precisely  like  a  small  child 
going  to  school  for  the  first  time.  I've  got  aw- 
fully soft.  No  matter;  a  few  kicks  and  cold-shoul- 
ders will  soon  bring  me  into  hard  condition  again. " 

"  Funking  ? "  said  the  doctor.  "  Mighty  enter- 
prise doesn't  look  so  brilliant  on  a  nearer  view  ? 
Say  the  word,  like  a  sensible  chap,  and  I'll  un- 
pack that  bag." 

"I  am  a  sensible  chap,  I  hope,  though  I  have 


THE    FIRST    PLUNGE  151 

been  a  mixture  of  knave  and  fool  ;  but  I  don't 
funk,  and  that  bag  and  I  are  going  to  sow  our- 
selves as  the  seed  of  a  glorious  crop." 

"  You're  a  maniac,"  said  the  doctor.  "But  I 
know  it's  no  good  talking." 

"  Only  in  one  way." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"It  shows  me,"  said  Tyrawley,  coming  over 
and  standing  by  him,  "more  and  more,  how 
awfully  kind  and  good  you  are  to  a  poor  beggar 
who  has  absolutely  no  claim  on  you,  except  that 
every-body  else  is  down  on  him." 

"  Oh,  dry  up  that  !  "  said  MacAdam.  "  Better 
do  as  I  tell  you  than  sentimentalize." 

Tyrawley  looked  rather  hurt,  but  veiled  it 
with  a  laugh.  "  Fancy  my  being  accused  of 
sentiment ;  every-body  would  tell  you  it  was  to 
get  something  out  of  you." 

"  Stow  that  also,"  said  MacAdam.  "I  know 
a  fool  when  I  see  one." 

"Please  don't  abuse  me  the  last  morning," 
entreated  the  other  meekly.  "I'm  taking  away 
my  sentiment  and  my  folly  to  a  more  bracing 
atmosphere.  You'll  come  and  see  me  off,  won't 
you,  old  chap  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor  decidedly.  "'The 
unhappy  criminal  was  attended  to  the  scaffold 
by '" 

"  I  say,  don't ! "  cried  the  other  super- 
stitiously.  "  In  a  month,  I  hope,  I  shall  write 
and  tell  you  every  thing." 


152         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"That's  a  bargain  ;  and  if  that  chest  of  yours 
gives  you  any  trouble,  you'll  send  for  your  physi- 
cian, remember." 

Then  Miss  MacAdam  appeared,  with  pro- 
visions, and  much  anxious  counsel  as  to  flannels 
and  steadiness.  Tyrawley  kissed  her  hand  with 
moist  eyes,  and  promised  to  remember  every 
thing;  then  he  was  driven  to  the  station  by 
MacAdam,  and  got  into  a  third-class  carriage, 
while  the  other  stood  at  the  door.  The  bell 
rang,  there  was  a  last  grip  of  the  hand — two 
hands  so  unlike;  a  rather  husky  "Good-by — 
God  bless  you!"  was  exchanged;  the  doctor 
turned  away,  muttering  "Confounded  idiot!"  to 
hide  his  emotion  from  himself,  and  Mr.  Tyrawley 
was  borne  off  to  make  his  new  start  alone. 

The  fog  had  settled  down  into  its  proper 
London  orange  when  he  got  out  at  London 
Bridge  station,  and  made  his  way  along  the 
greasy  roads  to  that  thickly  populated  and 
malodorous  district  which  is  known  as  the 
Township.  He  paused  at  the  corner  of  High 
Street,  drew  a  long  breath,  took  a  long  look 
round,  and  finally,  crossing  the  road,  plunged 
into  a  labyrinth  of  dingy  streets,  rich  in  the 
commonest  of  common  lodging-houses.  These 
retreats  not  being  very  obvious  to  the  unused 
eye,  he  paused  at  a  corner  and  addressed  him- 
self to  a  female  native,  who,  caparisoned  with 
the  usual  baby,  with  a  small  shawl  as  head-gear, 
stood  there,  airing  herself.  Perhaps  she  was 


THE    FIRST    PLUNGE  153 

waiting  for  somebody  inside  the  low-browed 
public-house,  where  the  gas  was  just  beginning 
to  flicker  through  the  red  curtains. 

"Can  you  tell  me,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley,  raising 
his  hat  with  his  usual  politeness,  "where  there 
is  a  common  lodging-house  ?  I  want  to  get  a 
night's  lodging  cheap! " 

She  looked  him  all  over  with  a  long  stare, 
first  of  amazement,  then  of  suspicion,  and  simply 
replied,  in  the  native  vocabulary,  "Gar'on  !  " 

Divining  this  as  an  expression  of  incredulity, 
he  added,  "I  should  really  be  awfully  obliged, 
for  I'm  a  stranger  here." 

She  took  another  look.  "Are  you  sure  you 
ain't  chaffing  ?" 

"  Is  there  any  chaff  in  wanting  a  night's 
lodging  ?" 

"Toffs  like  you,"  said  she,  "don't  want  lodg- 
ings in  Rose  and  Key  Street,  unless "  Here 

her  eye  fell  eloquently  on  the  bag. 

"Nothing  wrong  there,  I  assure  you,  and  I'm 
not  a  toff,  and  really,  my  dear  lady,  you'd  do  me 
no  end  of  a  favor  if  you  could  suggest  a  tolerably 
clean  place." 

"  What  can  yer  go  ? " 

"Threepence." 

She  began  to  take  a  womanly  interest  in  him. 
Gentlemanly  strangers,  who  lift  their  hats  and 
address  strangers  at  street  corners  as  "my  dear 
lady,"  not  in  derision,  are  uncommon  in  Rose 
and  Key  Street. 


154         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TVRAWLEY 

"You  take  my  tip,"  said  she;  "you  go  the 
other  brown,  and  cross  the  High  Street  to  St. 
Cuthbert's  Chambers.  I've  heard  of  toffs  under 
a  cloud  there;  but  in  the  kens  just  round 
here  " — and  she  entered  into  sundry  entomologi- 
cal and  other  particulars  too  painful  to  transcribe. 

He  thanked  her  with  becoming  sincerity  and 
went  away;  while,  rough  but  womanly,  she 
shouted  after  him,  "Wish  you  luck  !  "  at  which  he 
turned  and  lifted  his  hat  again. 

He  found  a  big  corner  building  with  "St. 
Cuthbert's  Chambers  "  cut  in  a  tablet  over  the 
door,  mounted  the  flight  of  stone  steps,  stated 
his  object  rather  shamefacedly  at  the  window 
of  the  little  entrance-lodge,  where  he  was  en- 
countered by  the  "Deputy"  (the  generic  title 
of  the  gentleman  who  admits  and  declines 
admission).  He  was  past  surprises,  and  briefly 
replied,  "Fourpence,"  and,  on  receiving  that 
sum,  presented  Tyrawley  with  a  bone  ticket  and 
the  gratuitous  advice  that  he  had  better  be  there 
early  if  he  wanted  to  pick  his  bed. 

"Could  I,"  said  the  latter,  looking  rather 
wildly  round  him,  "leave  my  bag  in  the  kitchen 
or  anywhere  ? " 

The  deputy  laughed  compassionately.  "  Bless 
you,  it  would  be  sold  by  auction  before  your 
back  had  been  turned  half  a  minute.  But  I  can 
put  it  in  one  of  the  lockers,  if  you  like,:and  if  it's 
all  square.  We  don't  want  more  '  coppers '  than 
we  can  help  coming  about  the  Chambers." 


THE   FIRST    PLUNGE  155 

"  Perfectly  square,  I  give  you  my  word.  I'm 
much  obliged  to  you." 

The  man  took  the  bag  with  a  gruff  "  All  right, 
sir,"  and  turning  to  his  wife,  who  sat  within,  in 
front  of  the  narrow  shelves  occupied  by  plates  of 
sliced  brawn,  German  sausage,  and  other  delica- 
cies, communicated  the  fact  that  they  had  another 
swell  down  on  his  luck. 

At  this  moment  Tyrawley  returned.  "  Is 
there,"  he  enquired,  "such  a  thing  as  getting 
some  supper  here  by  and  by?" 

"You  can  get  it  cold  from  me,  or  you  can 
bring  your  own  grub  and  cook  it  at  the  kitchen 
fire,  if  the  pans  ain't  all  in  use.  Crockery  pro- 
vided, and  all  conveniences  if  you  want  a  wash." 

"And  all,"  said  Tyrawley,  "for  fourpence  ? 
By  Jove  !  it  is  cheap  !  " 

"So,"  said  the  deputy,  looking  at  him  im- 
pressively, "  is  the  company ;  and  sometimes 
nasty." 

"Beggars,"  replied  he,  "cannot  be  choosers. 
Thanks.  See  you  again." 

"  Jolly  bird,  if  he  is  under  a  cloud,"  remarked 
the  deputy,  as  Tyrawley  ran  down  the  steps  a 
second  time. 

After  a  critical  inspection  of  shops  he  entered 
a  temple  of  local  fashion,  where  corduroys 
flapped  in  his  face,  and  men's  boots  of  portentous 
thickness  garlanded  the  doorway,  and,  lounging 
against  th"e  counter,  remarked,  in  his  gentlemanly 
drawl,  "  I  say,  I  want  a  proper  coster's  jersey." 


156         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

The  proprietor,  a  little  fat  man,  grinned  and 
stared,  but  with  a  brief,  "  There  you  are,  then," 
fished  out  an  armful — sailor  blue,  Salvation  Army 
red,  startling  stripes  of  orange  and  purple — and 
cast  them  on  the  counter;  investigating  curiously 
the  white  taper  fingers  and  thumb  which  turned 
them  delicately  over. 

"H'm — these,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley,  putting 
aside  the  stripes,  "are  perhaps  a  little  violent  ; 
this  " — curiously  examining  a  dark-blue  one — 
"would  do,  I  should  think.  How  much?" 

"  Two-and-eleven,  your  size.  You  ain't  ever 
wore  one  before,  I  suppose  ? "  he  added,  with 
scorn  and  pity,  observing  his  customer's  ignorant 
handling  of  the  selected  woollen  strait-waistcoat. 

"  Never,"  he  replied,  putting  aside  his  hat  and 
coat,  and  eying  it  doubtfully.  "  Which  is  the 
way  in  ?  " 

The  proprietor  indicated  it,  but  observed  sar- 
castically that  he  had  better  take  off  that  flash 
collar  and  tie,  if  he  wanted  to  look  any  thing  like. 

When  Tyrawley  had  agreed,  and  writhed  him- 
self into  his  new  garment,  to  the  great  disar- 
rangement of  his  satiny  locks,  a  small  glass  was, 
with  a  slight  chuckle,  handed  to  him,  in  which  he 
gravely  studied  himself  a  moment,  then  laid  it 
down,  with  a  calmly  convinced,  "  I  do  look  an 
awful  ruffian  !  Humiliating  discovery,  how  the 
absence  of  two  inches  of  starched  linen  levels 
things  !  " 

However,    he  paid    for   the   jersey,  which   he 


THE    FIRST    PLUNGE  157 

kept  on,  and  gratefully  acceding  to  the  man's 
offer  to  make  a  parcel  of  his  other  belongings, 
sallied  forth  again,  bending  his  steps  this  time 
to  a  certain  public-house  known  as  the  Apple 
Tree,  and  much  frequented  by  costers. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR 

PUBLIC-HOUSES,  of  a  kind,  were  no  unknown 
ground  to  Mr.  Tyrawley,  though  neither  the 
drink  nor  the  society  there  had  ever  attracted 
him,  except  as  means  to  an  end.  But  this  was  a 
house  of  a  different  character;  no  bejewelled 
barmaid,  but  a  stout  landlady,  with  a  swelled 
face,  suggesting  an  unregenerate  Mrs.  Higson, 
presided,  and  enquired,  not  without  suspicion,  in 
spite  of  the  jersey,  "  What's  for  you  ?  " 

"A  lemonade,  please,"  said  the  insinuating 
Tyrawley,  and  showing  her  a  leaf  torn  out  of  his 
pocket-book,  inscribed  "Jim  Naylor,  enquire  at 
the  Apple  Tree."  "Can  you  tell  me  where  I  am 
likely  to  drop  on  this  gentleman  ?"  She  read  it, 
and  her  suspicions  deepened. 

"What  can  the  likes  of  you  want  with  the 
Little  'un  ?  "  said  she.  "He  ain't  been  up  to 
any  thing  this  long  while.  I  tell  you  straight  and 
plain,  my  master  don't  want  no  detectives  coming 
round  the  house,  which  the  police  has  never  had 
nothing  against." 

"  I  assure  yon,"  said  he  plaintively,  "  I'm  not 
a  detective;  but  I  have  had  a  very  close  acquaint- 


MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR  159 

ance  with  Jim  Naylor  in  times  past,  and  he  told 
me  to  look  him  up  here." 

"Oh!  that's  different,"  said  she,  mollified. 
"  I  dare  say  he'll  be  round  presently.  He  conies 
here  most  days  this  time,  now  he's  got  a  pitch  in 
the  High.  You  can  wait  if  you've  a  mind  to  ; 
though  I  don't  know  what  a  gentleman  like  you 
can  have  to  do  with  the  Little  *un." 

"  Does  this  look  like  a  swell  ? "  asked  he,  with 
a  laugh,  smiting  his  breast. 

"Oh,  get  along!  "  said  she;   "togs  ain't  men. 
I  ain't  been  in  the  public    line   all  my  blessed 
days,  not  to  know  a  West  End  toff  when  I  see 
*  one!" 

"Is  Jim  doing  well  ?"  enquired  Tyrawley. 

There  was  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  tone  which 
puzzled  the  landlady. 

"  Uncommon,  I  hear.  But  there,  Jim  always 
does,  when  he  don't  get  conjuring  about  with 
rough  company.  Here  he  is.  Here's  somebody 
wants  you  ! " 

Here  Mr.  Jim  Naylor  was,  arrayed  in  a  waist- 
coat of  true  coster  cut,  with  about  five  hundred 
iridescent  pearl  buttons;  trousers,  profuse  over 
the  instep  and  tight  at  the  knee,  and  a  scarlet 
comforter.  He  was  only  an  inch  or  two  shorter 
than  Tyrawley  himself,  but  of  heavier  build,  run- 
ning a  good  deal  to  flesh,  round-shouldered,  in- 
kneed,  with  a  large  ocean  of  hairless  red  face, 
sparsely  islanded  by  two  small,  fierce,  light-blue 
eyes,  the  fragment  of  a  nose,  and  a  wide  mouth, 


l6o         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

revealing  two  rows  of  teeth,  white  and  pointed 
as  a  young  dog's;  the  whole  surmounted  by  a 
thatch  of  tiny  close  curls,  yellow  as  corn. 

At  the  landlady's  address  he  stopped  short, 
and  turned  on  Tyrawley  that  warning  scowl, 
equivalent  to  the  visible  stiffening  of  your  dog's 
body  when  introduced  to  strangers  of  his  own 
sex,  which  is  considered  the  thing  by  the  British 
rough. 

It  changed,  however,  with  absurd  rapidity, 
into  a  broad  grin  of  the  warmest  welcome  as  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  voice  husky  from  professional 
shouting,  "Well,  this  beats  all!  Slowed  if  it 
ain't  my  gentleman  guv'nor,  my  aristocratic  tip- 
topper,  come  to  look  up  Jim  Naylor,  according 
to  promise."  And  he  extended  a  great  leg-of- 
mutton  fist,  which  Tyrawley  accepted  with  the 
satisfaction  of  a  man  who  has  not  invariably  been 
made  welcome. 

"Now,"  continued  Mr.  Naylor,  before  the 
other  could  speak,  "the  next  question  is,  my 
noble  colonel,  what's  the  name  you'll  put  to  it  ? 
I  don't  care  if  it's  fizz  at  ten  shillings  a  bottle." 
Andt  he  slapped  his  pocket,  which  resounded 
agreeably. 

"  I'm  really  awfully  glad  to  see  you,  old  chap, 
and  uncommonly  obliged,"  said  Tyrawley 
gently.  "  But  I  don't  drink,  and  I've  just  had 
a  lemonade.  What  I  do  want " 

"Say  the  word,"  interpolated  the  ardent 
Naylor.  "  If  it  was  hot-house  pines,  and  they 


MR.    TYRAWLEY  S   MENTOR  l6l 

could  be  got  in  the  Township  Market,  you 
should  have  'em." 

"  Thanks,  awfully.  No,  it's  only  a  walk  and  a 
little  advice  that  I  want." 

Disappointment  and  gratification  struggled  in 
Mr.  Naylor's  breast.  "  Hear  him,"  he  said,  half 
proudly,  half  pathetically.  "  Wants  advice  from 
me  !  Comes  to  the  Apple  Tree  in  the  Township 
for  nothing  but  that,  and  a  dry  walk  with  Jim 
Naylor.  Blessed  if  he  ain't  got  a  jersey  on,  to 
look  like  my  mate;  not  as  he  does,  though — oh, 
no,  no  !  "  wagging  his  head  eloquently.  "  Well, 
come  along,  sir.  Anywhere  in  particular?" 

"Anywhere  where  we  can  have  a  quiet  jaw," 
said  Tyrawley,  taking  him  by  the  arm  as  they 
left  the  Apple  Tree;  at  which  Jim  swelled  and 
strutted  with  pride,  and  insisted  on  carrying 
Tyrawley's  parcel  as  they  walked  down  the  quiet- 
est street  available. 

The  subject  of  their  conversation,  which 
seemed  engrossing,  will  be  dealt  with  later  on. 
Its  fragments  were  enigmatical. 

"  714*8  is  the  thing,  though  in  some  districts 
420*5.  'Ware  specks.  Best  stand  in  the  S.  E. 
Pay  a  bob  or  two  more  for  a  bit  o'  brass  and 
paint.  Them  smiling  ways  o'  yours — ay,  and 
that  there  bundle  o'  white  fives,  that  can  hold  its 
own  against  my  big  reddishes.  Get  on  like  a 
house  afire,  you  will.  Coach  you  ?  Won't  I  ! 
Back  you  through  fire  and  water,  that  I  will; 
and  through  sickness  and  health,  and  here-unto," 
ii 


l62         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

said  Mr.  Naylor, — who  had  assisted  at  numerous 
coster  weddings, — with  an  indistinct  reminis- 
cence of  the  marriage  service,  "I  plight  yer  my 
truth."  And  he  slapped  his  hand  into  Tyraw- 
ley's  with  a  smack  that  echoed  down  the  street. 
"And  now,"  said  he,  "you  won't  have  some 
lush;  it  must  be  grub  instead.  The  only  point, 
what  grub  ? " 

Mr.  Tyrawley  modestly  suggested  that  he  had 
seen  in  an  eating-house  window  beefsteak-pud- 
dings for  threepence;  but  Mr.  Naylor  waived  the 
suggestion  aside  with  a  derisive  : 

"  Bally  cow-beef  for  thrippence  !  Not  you  ! 
No,  Jim  and  his  guv'nor  ain't  going  to  do  the 
thing  so  shabby  as  that.  Tiptop  restoront  it  is, 
in  the  High,  or  nothing." 

Tyrawley  submitted.  After  a  plentiful  meal 
a  further  conversation  followed;  an  appointment 
was  made  for  the  next  morning,  and,  finally, 
Mr.  Naylor  escorted  his  "gentleman  guv'nor," 
as  he  insisted  on  calling  him,  to  St.  Cuthbert's 
Chambers,  where,  after  looking  round  the 
kitchen,  and  deploring  its  unsuitability  to  that 
illustrious  stranger,  he  bade  him  good-night, 
with  a  cheery  and  emphatic  : 

"  Take  yer  all  round,  and  show  yer  every 
blessed  dodge  I  know  myself;  blowed  if  I  won't, 
to-morrer." 

On  the  first  night  in  a  common  lodging-house, 
however  decently  conducted,  the  fancy  can 
hardly  dwell  agreeably.  This  side  of  hardship 


MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR  163 

was  new  to  Tyrawley,  and  touched  his  idiosyn- 
crasy where  it  was  not  callous;  he  was  very 
nearly  making  a  bolt  for  the  street,  and  he  put 
away  from  him,  as  sacrilege  in  such  surround- 
ings, all  thought  of  Nina. 

He  was  one  of  the  first  inmates  down  and  out; 
and,  mindful  of  a  promise  of  Jim's  to  introduce 
him  to  a  "widder"  woman,  a  friend  of  Jim's 
missis,  who  would  let  him  have  a  decent  little 
crib  for  three  shillings  a  week,  he  turned  his 
back  on  St.  Cuthbert's  Chambers,  devoutly  thank- 
ful at  the  prospect  of  re-entering  them  no 
more. 

A  windy  spring  day.  Heaped-up  masses  of 
dark-gray  cloud,  with  pale,  yellow  gleams  be- 
tween, looked  down  on  a  broadish  street — steep, 
busy,  muddy  with  the  tramp  of  thousands  of 
feet;  showing  a  glimpse  of  a  yet  busier  thorough- 
fare at  the  top,  and  a  glimmer  of  steel-gray  river 
at  the  bottom.  Up  and  down  near  the  doors  of 
some  big  sale-rooms  were  rows  of  vehicles,  from 
the  shabbiest  coster's  barrow  to  the  smartest 
of  painted  and  gilt-lettered  vans.  Within  was 
collected  a  motley  crowd,  no  less  various,  of 
men  and  lads — ragged  jackets  and  striped 
jerseys  elbowing  Melton  great-coats  and  smart 
morning  suits  with  republican  impartiality,  amid 
great  wooden  cases  and  barrels.  A  strange 
aromatic  odor,  almost  stifling  to  the  uninitiated, 
mingled  with  corduroys,  tobacco,  and  that  pecu- 
liar, subtle  smell  of  man,  only  absent  where  a 


164         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

tub  is  a  diurnal  necessity.  At  the  lower  end  of 
the  room,  this  gale  of  Araby  the  unblest  was  dis- 
tinctly present;  so  were  rough,  even  ragged, 
coats;  so  also  a  tendency  to  extremes  of  color 
in  mufflers,  and  an  exuberance  in  buttons;  and 
among  their  possessors  stood  that  ill-matched 
yet  friendly  pair,  Jim  Naylor  and  his  "gentle- 
man guv'nor"  as  he  persisted  in  calling  him. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  looked  rather  bewildered  and 
a  little  pale,  possibly  because  the  breezes  of 
St.  Cuthbert's  Chambers  and  River  Street  are 
scarcely  so  bracing  as  Claretown;  but  he  was 
amiable  and  polite  as  ever,  and  his  mild  and 
grave  jocularity  at  once  awed  and  tickled  his 
rougher  neighbors;  whose  humor,  more  rudi- 
mentary and  personal,  he  received  with  perfect 
calmness,  while  his  height  and  breadth  of 
shoulders  tended  to  keep  it  within  limits. 

"Now,  guv'nor,"  said  Jim,  as  the  auctioneer 
mounted  his  rostrum,  "  here's  the  lot  you've  got 
to  be  in  with;  "  and  he  presented  him  to  three 
or  four  individuals  rather  less  prosperous  look- 
ing than  their  brethren.  "  That  is,  till  you  can 
do  without  it." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  nodded  agreeably  to  the  fore- 
most and  remarked  that  it  was  awfully  windy, 
which  the  other  received  \Vith  a  stare,  and  a 
sulky,  "  Oh,  blow  the  wind!  "  not  because  he  was 
out  of  temper,  but  because  a  hand-to-mouth 
struggle  for  existence  is  apt  to  efface  small 
courtesies. 


MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR  165 

Then  arose  the  steady  hubbub  of  rapid  and 
business-like  putting  up  and  knocking  down, 
which  is  as  unlike  as  possible  to  the  verbal 
embroidery  of  a  West  End  auction-room.  Here, 
time  is  money,  every-body  has  much  the  same 
chance,  and  the  few  jokes  going  are  strictly  pro- 
fessional or  personal.  All  possessed,  however, 
so  keen  an  interest  for  Tyrawley,  and  he  showed 
so  ready  a  grasp  of  the  situation,  that  his  mentor 
was  quite  unable,  when  all  was  satisfactorily  over, 
to  resist  giving  him  a  violent  blow  of  approval, 
coupled  with  the  remark: 

"Why,  you  takes  to  it  like  a  duck  to  water  ! 
Never  see  such  a  thing.  I  thought  you'd  be  as 
awkord  as  a  young  moke,  that  I  did." 

"  My  dear  Jim,  I'm  delighted  you're  gratified, 
but  I'm  afraid  it's  all  bunkum,"  said  Mr.  Tyraw- 
ley, looking  vaguely  to  the  four  points  of  the 
compass.  "Shall  we  get  the  things  home?" 

Mr.  Naylor  laughed  benevolently.  "You 
come  along  o'  me,"  he  said.  "You  can  manage 
a  bit  o'  lifting,  I  suppose  ? " 

"In  this  blessed  garment,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley, 
stretching  out  a  pair  of  long,  indigo  arms,  "I 
feel  I  can  lift  tons!" 

"All  right,"  said  the  exultant  Naylor;  then, 
calling  a  seedy  youth  in  charge  of  a  pair  of 
Russian  ponies  to  his  side,  "  Here,  minder,  will 
your  guv'nor  stop  much  longer  in  the  Fox, 
d'ye  think  ?" 

It  was  early  evening  when  the  two  got  out  at 


l66         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Plebham  Station.  It  is  not  a  plate-glass  and  gilt 
station;  its  refreshment-room  is  sordid,  its  book- 
stall offers  only  the  cheapest  literature,  and  Pleb- 
ham itself  is  neither  aristocratic  nor  picturesque, 
but,  in  the  main,  a  good,  honest,  working-class 
neighborhood;  where  fortunes  are  not  to  be 
made  in  big  coups,  but  are  possible  to  plodders. 
Tyrawley  looked  with  affection  and  interest  he 
had  never  felt  for  West  End  and  watering-place 
mansions,  at  the  bustling  shops  of  the  main 
roads,  the  mean  side-streets,  and  the  efforts  at 
villas  and  terraces  where  dwell  the  higher  ten  of 
Plebham.  He  looked  as  the  general  looks  at  a 
map  of  the  seat  of  war;  and  his  possible  rewards 
were  things  even  more  impalpable  than  a  bit  of 
bronze  metal  or  a  few  capitals  after  a  name — a 
fleeting  smile,  the  touch  of  a  hand,  a  glance  of 
tender  understanding  of  the  stress  of  the  fight. 
But  his  pensive,  inward  look  was  mistaken  by 
the  worthy  Naylor  for  depression. 

"Buck  up  a  bit,  guv'nor,"  said  he.  "  I  know 
Plebham  ain't  much  of  a  place,  after  what  you've 
been  used  to,  but  there's  money  to  be  made  if 
you  knows  how  to  go  about  it." 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right.  Jolly  tired,"  said  Tyraw- 
ley, stretching  his  arms  over  his  head,  with  a 
laugh.  "But  I  say  advisedly 'jolly.'  I'm  in  awful 
spirits." 

"Tired  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Naylor;  "and  so  you 
will  be  if  you  are  goin'  to  play  the  same  game  you 
was  up  to  to-day,  doin'  them  other  blokes'  work 


MR.  TYRAWLEY'S  MENTOR  167 

as  well  as  your  own,  and  only  get  laughed  at  for 
your  pains.  They  giv'  you  a  name,"  he  added, 
with  a  broader  grin,  "in  consequence  of  what 
you  did  along  o'  them  specks  in  your  lot." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  Tyrawley. .  Coster's 
chaff,  he  felt,  would  cut  much  less  than  Paget's 
virtuous  rebuke,  or  the  contempt  of  society  for 
its  outcast  members. 

"  'The  Honest  Man,'  "  replied  Jim  dryly,  for 
excessive  honesty  is  regarded  with  mingled  feel- 
ings by  his  class.  "Like  it?"  he  added,  curi- 
ously regarding  the  change  in  the  other's  coun- 
tenance. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  consider  it  to  be  what 
that  gentleman  in  the  sky-blue  and  orange  jersey 
characterizes  as  a  'bang-up  '  title." 

"Oh!  you'll  get  on  first-rate  with  the  boys,  if 
you  ain't  too  soft  and  easy  with  "em." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  other,  "I  assure 
you  I'm  not  half  so  soft  and  easy  as  I  appear." 

"No,"  replied  Jim,  with  a  meaning  glance, 
"I  found  that  out  pretty  early.  Them  hands  of 
yours  ain't  as  lady-like  as  they  look,  if  a  bloke 
chances  to  run  agin  them.  Well,  now,  I'll  take 
you  to  that  there  widder's  house  as  I  told 
you  of.  Unless,"  persuasively,  "you'll  wet  the 
bargain  ? " 

"  On  no  account,"  replied  Tyrawley  gayly,  as 
he  drew  the  wistful  Naylor  past  certain  hospi- 
table swing-doors. 

The  cleanliness  of  the  widow  woman's  house 


l68         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

was  a  matter  of  opinion ;  the  room,  a  tiny  attic, 
at  whose  highest  point  only  Tyrawley  could 
stand  upright;  the  bed,  full  six  inches  too  short 
for  him,  and  mysteriously  knobby.  He  ached  in 
every  limb  from  the  ardor  with  which  he  had 
carried  heavy  cases  of  merchandise,  he  had 
knocked  pieces  of  skin  off  his  hands  against  stray 
splinters  and  nails,  and  he  was  beyond  expression 
tired;  but  no  Sybarite  on  his  couch  of  down  ever 
rested  so  sweetly,  or  woke  so  cheerfully,  as  he 
amid  the  fog  which  hangs  more  or  less  peren- 
nially over  Plebham. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
"  THE   COVE    TO   SOAP    *EM   DOWN  " 

"HERE'S  a  thing,"  said  Dr.  MacAdam — "two 
unfortunate  lovers  expecting  me  to  act  as  a  Deus 
ex  machina."  He  was  sitting  at  dessert  with  his 
sister,  and  tossed  a  letter,  which  had  arrived  by 
the  last  post,  across  the  table  to  her  : 

"DEAR  DR.  MACADAM: 

"Will  you  please  give  or  send  the  enclosed 
photograph  to  Mr.  Tyrawley,  as  I  think  he  has  a 
right  to  it,  though  mother  doesn't  like  my  send- 
ing it  ?  Will  you  kindly  write  and  tell  me  if  he  is 
well  and  happy  ?  My  kindest  regards  to  your 
sister  and  yourself,  and  my  love  to  him. 
"Yours  gratefully, 

"N.  ST.  JUST." 

On  the  back  of  the  photograph  was  written, 
with  more  than  Nina's  usual  firmness,  "Yours 
ever,  Nina." 

"Poor  things!"  said  Miss  MacAdam,  shaking 
her  head.  "  How  can  such  an  affair  end  ?  " 

"That  young  lady,"  said  MacAdam,  "mayn't 
have  much  go  in  her,  but  she  has  an  amount  of 
stay  which  makes  me  think  something  ma-»  come 


170         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

of  it,  after  all.  But  how  can  I  send  her  lunatic 
this  treasure,  when  there  isn't  even  a  bubble  on 
the  surface  to  show  where  he  has  gone  down?" 
And  he  scratched  his  head  perplexedly. 

But  the  first  post  next  morning  solved  the  dif- 
ficulty. The  little  doctor  came  in  jocund,  with 
a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"Listen,"  said  he,  and  read  it  aloud,  chuck- 
ling: 

"  DEAREST  MACADAM  : 

"The  enterprise  is  prospering,  thank  God  and 
you — and  somebody  else,  whom  I  hardly  dare  to 
think  of  ;  and  yet,  but  for  that  thought,  I  don't 
suppose  it  would  have  prospered  at  all.  Now,  I 
want  you,  if  you  don't  mind,  to  come  and  see  it 
all  for  yourself,  and  tell  me  whether  I  am  a 
greater  or  less  fool  than  you  give  me  credit  for 
being.  I  am  well,  and  oceans  happier,  and,  I 
think,  more  of  a  man  than  Poyntz's  adversary  at 
billiards,  or  even  the  professor's  hack  ;  but  you 
shall  judge,  only  you  must  prepare  yourself  to  be 
flabbergasted  out  of  all  conventional  ideas  of  '  the 
thing';  otherwise  you  might,  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  turn  your  back  forever  on  your 
affectionate  and  grateful, 

"I.  T. 

"  (alias  'Gentleman  Lee,'  or — wonders  will 
never  cease — '  The  Honest  Man  /') 

"P.  S. — The  idea  of  seeing  you  has  scattered 
my  few  brains.  Will  you  meet  me  to-morrow, 


"  THE   COVE    TO   SOAP   *EM    DOWN"  171 

between  twelve  and  one,  at  the  corner  of  High 
Street  and  Gregory  Street,  Plebham,  S.  W.  ? 
Trains  every  ten  minutes  from  London  Bridge. 
Do  come  ! " 

"What  on  earth  does  a  man  like  Tyrawley  find 
to  do  here?"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  emerged 
from  under  the  railway-arch  into  Plebham  High 
Street,  which  even  the  illusory  sweetness  of  the 
spring  sunshine  failed  to  poetize  :  "  'Our  Men's 
Boots  at  4s.  ud.  /'  'Apples,  a  penny  a  pound  ! ' 
Three  fried-fish  shops,  and  butchers  glorying  in 
New  Zealand  meat  !  What  does  it  all  mean  ? " 

The  butcher  caught  his  eye,  and,  mistaking  its 
import,  offered  him,  with  the  cheerful  civility  of 
Plebham,  "Prime  cuts  at  6y2d." 

MacAdam  sadly  shook  his  head,  and,  enquiring 
his  way  to  Gregory  Street,  was  informed  that 
he  would  know  it  by  the  Fox  and  Grapes  at 
one  corner,  and  a  ham-and-beef  shop  at  the 
other. 

"Gracious  Heavens!"  muttered  the  doctor, 
transposing  nouns  in  his  bewilderment,  "Fox 
and  ham  and  beef  and  grapes  !  Has  my  lunatic 
become  a  potman  ? " 

He  trotted  on,  his  smart  morning  get-up — for 
the  doctor  was  a  dandy  in  his  own  style — rather 
admired  by  the  fair  sex  of  Plebham,  outdoing  its 
shopping,  with  useful  baskets  or  shiny  black  bags 
grasped  by  hands  whose  index  finger  was  inserted 
in  a  doorkey,  or  which  propelled  basinettes, 


172          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

which  served  the  double  purpose  of  baby-  and 
luggage-cart. 

He  reached  the  corner.  A  group  of  coster- 
mongers  stood  round  a  barrow,  tastefully  ar- 
ranged with  oranges  and  nuts,  vouched  by  pla- 
cards to  be  the  "Finest  in  Plebham."  Trade 
was  slack  at  the  moment;  but,  as  he  looked,  an 
excellent  female,  with  a  brow  furrowed  by  house- 
hold cares,  was  dragged  by  a  rebellious  urchin 
up  to  the  tempting  fruit,  and  one  of  the  group 
detached  himself  to  serve.  His  back  was  toward 
MacAdam,  but  there  was  something  uncosterlike 
and  strangely  familiar  in  the  unusual  height  and 
powerful  grace  of  the  figure;  and  when  he  touched 
the  child's  cheek  with  his  finger  as  he  took  the 
mother's  penny,  MacAdam  recognized  anatomic- 
ally the  peculiar  slenderness  and  flexibility  of  the 
hand;  though  it  was  by  no  means  as  white  as 
that  which  used  to  handle  a  cue  with  such  fatal 
dexterity. 

"By  all  that's  wonderful  !  "  muttered  the  doc- 
tor, "it  is  that  mad  chap!"  He  approached 
Tyrawley,  and,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder, 
enquired  dryly,  to  hide  his  mingled  emotions, 
"What  is  this  masquerade  for?"  Both  his 
hands  were  seized  and  wrung  in  a  grip  which 
denoted  considerable  improvement  in  muscle. 

"My  dear  old  chap!  I'm  so  awfully  glad  to 
see  you,  I  can't  say.  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't 
come  to  these  remote  regions.  Don't  look  at  a 
fellow  so," — for  the  doctor  was  eying  him  up 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"         173 

and  down, — "  I'm  not  masquerading.  I  wear  the 
costume  of  my  class,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it, 
nor  of  my  trade.  You  understand  what  the 
enterprise  is,  now  ?  " 

"I  do," said  MacAdam  emphatically,  "and  it's 
even  madder  than  I  thought,  though  I  must  own 
it  seems  to  agree  with  you — look  thinnish,  and  a 
bit  weather-beaten,  but  in  hard  condition." 

"I  haven't  felt  so  well  for  years;  but  don't 
let's  stand  jawing  here.  Perhaps,  though,  it  may 
amuse  you  to  see  me  as  the  British  coster  for 
half  an  hour  or  so;  after  that  trade  will  be  slack 
for  a  bit,  and  I'll  take  a  holiday.  I've  engaged 
one  of  my  brethren  to  look  after  the  barrow  for 
me.  I  told  him  a  patron  of  mine,  a  benevolent 
physician,  was  coming  to  look  me  up.  He  asked 
if  you  were  a  'medical  mission,'  and  I  replied 
'  Extremely  so.'  I'll  tell  you  all  about  him 
presently;  he's  a  fine  fellow,  and  has  done  me  a 
lot  of  good  turns.  Meanwhile  I'll  introduce  you 
to  him.  Here,  Jim,"  he  added,  "this  is  Dr. 
MacAdam,  who  saved  my  life." 

The  British  coster  is  no  sycophant.  Mr. 
Naylor  ducked  his  head,  cast  a  suspicious  glance 
at  the  doctor,  grinned  away  the  suspicion,  and 
extended  a  big,  red,  grimy  fist,  with  the  remark: 

"And  you  done  a  good  job  when  you  done  that, 
mister." 

"So  I  think,"  said  MacAdam.  "  Might  I  ask 
if  you  are  our  friend's  mentor  ?  " 

"  Dunno   about   mentor — blow    that  !      But   I 


174         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

teached  him  all  he  knows  in  the  fruit  line,  if  you 
mean  that." 

"  Did  he  take  to  it  quickly  ?  " 

"I  believe  you — like  a  fish  to  water.  He's 
got,"  said  Mr.  Naylor,  regarding  his  protege  with 
benevolent  criticism,  "  some  finniking  ways  as  I 
don't  hold  with,  and  some  odd  pranks  about  fair 
dealing  which  ain't  business;  but  I  must  admit 
as  he  makes  'em  answer.  It's  quite  surprising " 
added  Mr.  Naylor,  waxing  eloquent  under  the 
doctor's  amused  approval,  "the  trade  he  does, 
when  other  blokes  is  standing  with  their  hands  in 
their  pockets.  Females  especially  he  does  get 
round,  talking  to  them,  like  the  toff  he  is,  till 
they  makes  believe  to  be  ladies,  just  for  company. " 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  at  Tyrawley,  who 
blushed  and  protested  eagerly  that  it  was  only 
common  politeness. 

"Ain't  common  at  a  barrer,  though,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Naylor.  "  And  there's  one  thing,"  he  added, 
observing  Tyrawley's  uneasiness,  "he's  alike 
with  old  'uns  and  young  'uns.  Ain't  got  such  a 
thing  as  a  '  tart '  himself.  Won't  look  at  'em." 

Tyrawley  was  palpably  relieved,  and  laughed. 
"Thank  you,  Jim,"  said  he,  as  Mr.  Naylor,  re- 
marking that  he  would  be  inside  the  Fox  with  a 
pint  of  four  ale  when  wanted,  politely  retired. 
"  Now,  Mac  Adam,  can  I  offer  you  a  seat  on  an 
orange-box  and  a  taste  of  my  stock — which  is  as 
good  as  you  would  get  in  East  Street,  in  Clare- 
town,  for  double  the  money — or  would  you  rather 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"        175 

walk  about  till  I've  cleared  off  my  usual  morning 
customers  ? " 

The  doctor  elected  rather  to  stand  and  smoke, 
with  his  back  against  some  railings,  and  Tyrawley 
himself  sat  astride  on  the  orange-box  and  grate- 
fully accepted  a  cigar,  a  luxury  to  which  he  had 
been  a  stranger  for  a  month.  The  doctor  was 
intensely  amused  at  the  spectacle  of  the  impassive 
chevalier  of  Claretown  Parade  under  the  new 
aspect  of  a  street  salesman;  and  his  fixed  gaze 
and  occasional  chuckle  rather  put  his  friend  out 
of  countenance,  especially  as  most  of  his  custom- 
ers were  of  the  gentler  sex.  Now,  as  in  Pleb- 
ham  the  masculine  half  of  a  sentimental  couple 
may  frequently  be  observed  to  lean  on  the  arm 
of  his  feminine  counterpart;  so  it  is  also  not 
infrequently  a  habit  for  the  latter  to  do  the  lion's 
share  of  the  courting,  and  Mr.  Tyrawley  was, 
unfortunately,  much  better  looking  and  better 
mannered  than  the  average  male  of  Plebham; 
where,  moreover,  what  passes  for  ordinary  polite- 
ness in  Park  Lane  and  Grosvenor  Square  is  apt 
to  be  viewed  as  something  personally  compli- 
mentary. 

MacAdam,  looking  on  at  a  dropping  fire  of  cus- 
tomers,— chiefly  shopping  matrons,  with  an  occa- 
sional small  slavey,  a  knot  of  school  children,  and 
a  working-man  or  two  in  the  dinner  hour, — pres- 
ently saw  his  friend's  eyebrows  take  an  upward 
curve  of  protest,  and  his  color  heighten,  as  a 
damsel,  in  a  large  hat  decorated  with  a  field  of 


176          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

nodding  flowers, — the  extremest  fashions  of  the 
West  End  last  year,  caricatured  to  suit  Plebham, 
— pulled  up  short,  with  an  affected  start,  and 
coquettishly  remarked: 

"Oh!" — which  she  pronounced  "aow" — "I 
am  'ot  !  Don't  I  look  as  if  I  wanted  a  horange? " 

"  I'm  not  aware,"  said  he,  with  a  martyred  air, 
"that  the  need  of  an  orange  expresses  itself 
legibly  on  the  human  countenance." 

"You  do  talk  a  lot  of  rubbish,  Mr.  Gentleman 
Lee,  or  whatever  they  call  you, "said  she,  picking 
one  up,  and  beginning  to  peel  it  with  a  long,  dirty 
nail.  "  Well,  don't  I  look  as  if  I  wanted  a  young 
man?" 

Tyrawley  shrank  from  the  very  pointed  ogle 
which  accompanied  this  query,  and  replied,  with 
formal  politeness,  that  on  that  point  he  was  even 
less  a  judge. 

"  Supposing  I  were  to  say  that  I  do  ?  "  giggled 
she. 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  he,  "  I  should  venture 
to  suggest  that  your  parents  have,  doubtless, 
among  their  circle  some  one  who  would  fill  the 
void." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  nice  one  to  answer  a  girl  like 
that.  I  suppose  you  think  that  you  wouldn't 
do?" 

"I'm  quite  sure  of  it,"  said  Tyrawley,  in  a 
hurry,  casting  a  piteous  side-glance  at  MacAdam. 

She  tossed  her  head  with  an  angry,  "Well, 
that's  plain  enough." 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"         177 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  replied  composedly, 
"  that  is  precisely  what  I  intended  it  to  be." 

"  Oh,  all  serene  ! "  said  she,  throwing  down  a 
ha'penny.  "  There  you  are,  Mr.  Two-a-penny. 
I'm  off  to  your  betters  ! "  And  she  departed  in  a 
huff,  to  his  intense  relief. 

He  went  across  to  MacAdam  for  comfort,  but 
that  worthy  gave  him  chaff,  pretending  to  think 
that  his  polite  coldness  was  assumed  to  blind  him, 
MacAdam,  lest  he  should  tell  tales. 

A  discreet  mother,  purchasing  two  dozen  for  a 
household  down  with  fever;  a  party  of  board- 
school  boys,  whom  the  swell  coster  had  somehow 
fascinated,  so  that  they  hung  admiringly  round 
the  stall,  and  were  extravagant  in  ha'porths;  and 
an  elderly  housekeeper,  who  had  seen  better  days, 
and  at  each  visit  solemnly  urged  upon  him  that 
he  was  too  good  for  this  place,  soothed  his  feel- 
ings; and  a  lull  coming  in  business,  and  Mr. 
Naylor  emerging  from  the  Fox  with  the  remark 
that  he  was  full  up,  and  could  look  after  the 
barrow  as  soon  and  as  long  as  his  guv'nor  liked — 
that  gentleman  proposed  to  MacAdam  that  they 
should  go  and  get  some  dinner  somewhere. 

The  doctor  looked  unhappy. 

"Eh?  Dinner  at  two  o'clock?  And  what? 
I've  seen  tripe,  and,  I  think,  whelks,  and  horse — 
stated  to  be  ham  and  beef." 

"In  the  wilds  of  Plebham,"  replied  the  other 
gayly,  "two  is  an  upper-ten  dinner  hour.  Ham 
and  beef  is  a  correct  statement,  but  probably  you 
12 


178         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

wouldn't  like  it.  But  there's  a  little  Italian  shop 
where  I  go  in  moments  of  extravagance,  where 
you  can  get  a  decent  steak  and  omelette,  and,  I'm 
told,  a  fair  glass  of  claret;  there  '11  be  nobody 
there  at  this  hour,  and  we  can  have  a  long  jaw." 

Shortly  afterward  they  found  themselves  com- 
fortably accommodated  on  a  red  velvet  settee  in 
the  inner  sanctum — half  gay,  half  faded — of  one 
of  those  small  Italian  restaurants  which  few  Lon- 
don suburbs  lack. 

''But  now,"  said  the  doctor,  and  speaking 
quite  seriously,  "  let  me  ask  you  three  questions. 
Do  you  really  mean  you  can  stand  this  sort  of 
thing  every  day,  and  all  day  ?  Can  you  make  it 
pay  ?  And  does  it  present  a  reasonable  prospect 
of  leading  to  something  better — better  suited  to 
you  ?" 

Tyrawley  answered  him  with  equal  delibera- 
tion. "  I  stand  it  perfectly,"  said  he.  "  Physical 
discomforts  never  bothered  me  much,  you  know; 
and,  as  a  rule,  it  rather  amuses  me.  I  do  make 
it  pay — as  advertisements  say,  '  by  strict  honesty 
and  personal  attention  to  business,  I.  T.  hopes  to 
merit,  etc.'  Something  better?  Yes.  I  don't 
mean  to  be  a  coster  all  my  days.  I'm  already 
considered  a  rising  man  in  the  fraternity." 

"I  observed,"  said  the  doctor,  "the  admiring 
and  respectful  manner  in  which  your  muscular 
friend  addressed  you." 

"He  is  really,"  said  Tyrawley,  "more  my 
'guv'nor'  than  I  am  his.  This  is  his  pitch. 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"        179 

though  I  hire  the  barrow  at  a  shilling  a  week;  we 
go  halves  in  stock  and  profits;  he  supplies  the 
greater  part  of  the  knowledge  and  the  shouting, 
at  which  I'm  not  good  yet,  while  I,  he  informs 
me,  am  the  '  cove  to  soap  'em  down.' ' 

"You  didn't  soap  the  damsel  in  the  botanical 
hat  much,"  said  the  doctor  grimly. 

"  She  and  her  kind,"  replied  the  other,  with 
elevated  eyebrows,  "are  one  of  my  few  trials. 
You've  no  idea  how  hard  it  is,  in  the  esteemed 
Naylor's  phrase,  to  give  them  the  complete 
'  choke  off. '  They  don't  understand  sarcasm,  and 
you  can't  knock  a  woman  down,  whatever  her 
impudence." 

"It's  all  very  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  I'm 
sadly  afraid  that,  when  my  back  is  turned,  you 
make  havoc  in  the  female  hearts  of  Plebham. 
What  would  Miss " 

"Don't!"  said  the  other.  "Don't  mention 
that  name  in  such  company." 
•  He  was  so  serious  that  the  doctor  forbore,  and 
invited  him  instead  to  give  an  outline  of  his 
adventures  since  they  met.  It  was  not  a  very 
exciting  narrative,  after  the  first  incongruity  of 
the  idea  wore  off;  for  Tyrawley  made  light  of 
small  disagreeables  and  discomforts,  of  hard 
fare,  long  hours,  and  the  sundry  pains  and  weak- 
nesses which  take  some  time  to  wear  out  after 
a  long  illness;  of  the  first  vague  suspicions  his 
brother  merchants  entertained  of  the  toff  who 
had  settled  down  so  strangely  among  them,  and 


l8o         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

of  the  barrenness  of  such  a  life  to  an  educated 
man. 

"Well,". said  MacAdam,  "you  have  more  pig- 
headedness,  and  also  more  pluck,  than  I  gave 
you  credit  for ;  and  if  only  you  can  stand 
it  morally  and  physically,  you  may  do  some- 
thing." 

"If  I  could  stick  it  out  the  first  month,"  said 
Tyrawley,  "  I  can  stick  it  out  altogether." 

"What  on  earth  put  it  in  your  head,  I  should 
like  to  know  ?" 

"Despair,  and  Jim  Naylor's  address  in  an  old 
pocket-book." 

"Ah  !  by  the  way,  how  came  you  to  be  hand 
and  glove  with  that  delectable  individual  ? " 

"Because  we  had  been  fist  to  fist  previously," 
laughed  Tyrawley — "  or,  rather,  knuckles  to 
nose." 

"Pray  explain." 

"  It's  simple  enough.  I  had  been  to  see  a 
man  I  knew  in  Guy's  Hospital,  and  in  a  back 
street,  somewhere  in  that  region,  I  came  across 
Master  Jim — who  is,  as  you  see,  nearly  as  long 
as  your  humble  servant,  and  a  trifle  heavier — 
'bashing,'  as  he  described  it,  a  much  smaller 
animal  of  his  own  species,  whom  Jim  alternately 
knocked  down  and  kicked  up,  while  an  admiring 
crowd  stood  round  to  see  fair  play.  After  look- 
ing on  a  minute  I  ventured  to  suggest  that 
things  were  getting  monotonous,  not  to  say  dis- 
gusting. Jim  replied  by  irrelevant  personal 


"  THE   COVE   TO   SOAP    *EM    DOWN  "  l8l 

remarks.  I  persisted.  He  then  suggested,  as  a 
joke,  that  perhaps  if  I  wasn't  such  an  adjective, 
adjective,  adjective  got-up  toff,  I  might  have  a 
round  with  him  myself,  but  he  would  lay  I  had 
no  stomach  for  fighting. 

"The  other  poor  little  brute  looked  so  awfully 
done  that  it  got  my  blood  up  ;  and,  much  to 
Jim's  surprise  and  satisfaction,  I  took  off  my 
coat,  hat,  and  gloves,  confided  them  to  the  most 
decent-looking  person  present,  and  'went  for' 
Mr.  Naylor.  We  weren't  badly  matched,  but  I 
was  fresh  and  he  was  tired,  and  I  have  had,"  said 
Mr.  Tyrawley,  a  momentary  shade  of  the  past 
crossing  his  brow,  "to  hold  my  own.  So  I  very 
soon  had  him  on  his  back,  in  which  position  he 
grunted,  with  that  manliness  which  is  a  trait  of 
his,  '  All  right,  my  gentleman  guv'nor.  I  gives 
in.  I  won't  lay  another  finger  on  little  Perkins, 
for  your  sake.  Blow  me  if  I  ever  see  a  prettier 
touch  than  that  last  of  yours.'  " 

I  thanked  him,  with  my  usual  politeness, 
which  I  had  recovered  by  this  time,  and  offered 
him  liquid  refreshment,  which  he  accepted  on 
the  condition  of  my  first  shaking  hands  with  him. 
When,  after  a  considerable  conversation,  we 
parted,  he  insisted  on  writing  his  address  in  my 
pocket-book,  and  telling  me  that,  if  ever  I 
wanted  any  thing  in  Jim  Naylor's  line,  from  a 
gooseberry  to  a  cocoanut,  I'd  only  got  to  name 
it.  You  know  the  rest.  I'm  sure  the  poor  chap 
has  been  a  good  friend  and  a  good  chum  to  me, 


182          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  he  would  be  a  fruiterer  with  a  big  shop  by 
now,  if  it  wasn't  for  that  fatal  beer. 

"I  do  seem  to  fall  on  my  legs  in  a  most 
remarkable  and  wholly  undeserved  manner,  as 
to  other  fellows  taking  me  up.  Don't  I  ? "  he 
added,  laying  his  hand  caressingly  on  the  other's 
shoulder.  "You  first,  old  man,  a  long  way 
ahead  ;  and  now  poor  Jim." 

"  Oh!  you're  such  a  soft  ass,"  said  the  doctor, 
"one  has  to  take  you  up.  But  now  we've  had 
the  solids  in  the  discussion  of  trade  and  beef- 
steak, what  do  you  say  to  a  touch  of  romance  by 
way  of  dessert?  "  And  he  put  his  hand  slowly 
into  his  breast-pocket,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
Tyrawley  looked  at  him  with  restless  eagerness. 
"Wait  a  bit,"  said  he,  extracting  the  papers. 
"  Let  me  see.  This  is  information  respecting 
the  next  Derby  winner — you're  not  a  sporting 
character.  This  is  a  prescription  for  colic,  a 
disease  you're  more  likely  to  cause  your  cus- 
tomers to  experience  than  to  suffer  from  your- 
self. Oh!  this  is  it:  portrait  of  a  lady,  fair,  fat, 
and  forty — you  told  me  once,  you  know,  that 
was  your  special  line — presented  to  me  the  day 
before  yesterday." 

Tyrawley  held  out  his  hand;  his  htfpe  seemed 
too  good  to  be  true,  and  the  doctor  yielded  the 
little  envelope  to  him  with  a  sardonic,  "  Be  sure 
you  give  it  me  back." 

The  other  drew  out  the  photo,  and,  instantly 
turning  his  back,  was  absorbed  in  its  contempla- 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"        183 

tion  for  some  minutes.  Then  he  turned  round, 
with  a  flushed  cheek  and  look  of  extravagant 
rapture,  and  said  gently,  "You  heartless  villain! 
This  is  for  me.  Why  didn't  you  give  it  me  at 
once  ?" 

"  Don't  abuse  your  superiors.  Besides,  would 
you  have  liked  your  fellow-coster's  opinion  on 
it?" 

"No,  no!  of  course  not.  I  was  only  joking. 
Tell  me  all  about  it.  Did  she  really  send  it? 
How  is  she  ?  Did  she  say  any  thing  about  me  ? 
Is  there " 

"Oh,  dry  up  there!  That's  all  I  know  about 
it.  I've  no  further  use  for  it." 

And  the  doctor  handed  over  Nina's  letter, 
with  which,  and  the  photo,  Mr.  Tyrawley 
plunged  into  an  abyss  of  unreasoning  happiness 
for  the  next  ten  minutes;  while  the  waiter,  a 
romantic  Swiss,  scented  a  love  affair  from  afar. 

"When  you've  returned  to  this  sublunary 
sphere,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  have  a  question  to 
ask.  I  have  to  answer  that  letter.  Have  you 
any  thing  particular  for  me  to  say  ?  " 

Now,  if  Mr.  Tyrawley  had  been  twenty,  he 

would  have  replied,  "  Tell  her "  and  added  a 

string  of  blissful  asseveration;  but  he  was  thirty- 
four,  and  broken  in  by  experience,  and  he  knew 
that.  Nina,  for  all  her  high  spirit,  was  in  her 
mother's  power.  So  he  looked  down  and  thought, 
and  then  said,  in  a  low  voice,  for  he  was  half 
moved  and  half  uneasy  under  MacAdam's  twink- 


184         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

ling  eye,  "  Say  that  I  am  quite  well,  and  as  happy 
as  I  can  be  away  from  her;  that  I  prize  what  she 
has  sent  me  unspeakably,  and  I'll  try  to  deserve 
it  by  keeping  my  promise,  and — and  " — it  rather 
choked  him  to  say  it  out — "my  humble  and 
faithful  love." 

Little  MacAdam  was  moved,  too.  "  All  right, 
old  man,"  he  said  cheerily,  "  I'll  remember  every 
word,  and  I'll  say  from  myself  that  it's  a  correct 
statement,  and  that  you  are  the  very  pink  of 
costers,  and  a  perfect  Sir  Galahad  with  regard  to 
the  fair  sex  of  Plebham." 

"  Pray,  pray  don't !  "  said  Tyrawley,  in  horror. 
"  She  wouldn't  understand  that  there's  absolutely 
no  real  hardship  in  this  life;  and  the  other  thing 
wouldn't  occur  to  her  at  all.  You  won't,  will 
you  ?  " 

"Very  well,"  said  MacAdam.  "I'll  merely 
say  that  you're  absorbed  in  semi-commercial 
pursuits,  and  on  the  high-road  to  be  a  merchant 
prince." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Tyrawley,  and  he 
produced  a  small  white  paper  packet,  which  he 
placed,  with  an  air  of  solemn  triumph,  in  Mac- 
Adam's  hand. 

"What's  this?"  said  he,  with  a  stare  of  sur- 
prise as  he  opened  it  and  found  two  florins. 
"  Fee — testimonial  to  my  merits  ?" 

"  The  first  instalment  of  that  three  pounds 
you  threw  at  my  head  two  months  ago." 

"You're  a  good  chap,"  said  MacAdam,   with 


"THE  COVE  TO  SOAP  'EM  DOWN"         185 

feeling.  "  You  deserve  to  get  on,  and,  by  Jove  ! 
I'm  sure  you  will." 

There  was  a  little  more  talk,  and  a  promise 
that  when  Tyrawley  had  a  photo  taken  Mac- 
Adam  would  send  it  on;  then  he  tipped  the 
waiter  royally, — a  proceeding  highly  appreciated 
by  these  mountaineers, — and  returned  to  look  at 
Mr.  Naylor,  who  was  shouting  conscientiously 
without  moving  a  muscle  of  his  purple  counte- 
nance, "  Here  you  are,  ladies !  Best  in  Pleb- 
ham,"  etc. 

While  Tyrawley  was  engaged  with  a  special 
customer — a  feeble  old  woman  to  whom  he  had 
done  some  small  favor,  and  who  insisted  on  stop- 
ping to  talk  of  her  family  troubles — the  doctor 
drew  Naylor  aside,  presented  him  with  one  of 
Mr.  Tyrawley's  florins,  and  requested  a  candid 
opinion  of  the  latter's  prospects  as  a  trader. 

"  Guv'nor,"  replied  the  latter,  laying  a  great 
knobbly  forefinger  staggeringly  on  the  doctor's 
breast,  "he'll  do!  You'll  see  that  there  swell 
pardner  of  mine  in  his  own  shop  in  the  West  End 
yet.  Yes,  and  driving  in  his  own  carriage,  with 
a  bang-up  pair  of  steppers  from  his  country 
willa.  See  if  you  don't.  And  some  young  lady 
sitting  beside  him;  but  she  must  be  a  oner,  she 
must,  to  be  up  to  my  mark  for  my  gentleman 
guv'nor;  "  and  Mr.  Naylor  snorted  triumphantly. 

Then  the  doctor  looked  at  his  watch,  and 
found  his  train  was  almost  due,  and  Tyrawley 
went  with  him  to  the  station  and  saw  him  off, 


1 86         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

with  many  grateful  messages  to  his  sister,  a 
promise  to  write  soon  and  fully,  and  an  entreaty 
that  MacAdam  would  answer  "her"  letter  at 
once. 

"He's  a  jolly  sort  enough,  that  medical  mis- 
sion is,"  was  Mr.  Naylor's  comment  on  the 
doctor.  "  But,"  he  added,  rather  depreciatingly, 
"  he  didn't  give  me  a  track,  nor  so  much  as  take 
me  up  for  swearing;  and  I  could  lick  him  with 
one  hand  tied  behind  me." 

From  which  remark  it  may  be  opined  that  Mr. 
Naylor  had  his  own  standards  for  the  measure- 
ment of  his  fellow-creatures,  and  objected  as 
much  as  do  more  enlightened  persons  when  the 
latter  fall  short  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE    HERO    OF    A    STREET    FIGHT 

MR.  JOHN  PAGET,  who  lived  by  rule  and  meas- 
ure,— an  unusual  and  scarcely  endearing  trait  at 
twenty-seven, — being  concerned  about  his  liver 
and  requiring  exercise,  and  being  engaged  to  a 
heavy  luncheon  at  the  house  of  some  City  friends 
in  the  plutocratic  suburb  of  Grasswich,  elected 
to  get  out  at  the  humble  Plebham,  and  walk 
across  for  his  stomach's  sake.  As  he  was  pro- 
ceeding along  the  High  Street,  he  saw  a  crowd, 
and  was  about,  with  his  usual  absence  of  ordinary 
human  weakness,  to  skirt  it,  when  its  central 
figure  caught  his  eye  and  checked  his  well-regu- 
lated steps.  Now,  a  crowd  collects  for  nothing  in 
Plebham;  but  here  there  was  a  remarkable  spec- 
tacle. It  was  no  less  than  Mr.  Tyrawley,  rather 
muddy  as  to  his  garments,  dishevelled  as  to  his 
hair,  very  pale,  hatless,  with  the  blood  running 
down  his  cheek  from  a  cut  on  his  forehead,  and 
his  breath  coming  in  short  gasps. 

To  his  left  arm  clung  a  very  little  woman, 
weeping  hysterically  and  muddier  than  himself, 
while  his  right  hand  had  enough  to  do  in  repel- 
ling the  attacks  of  an  undersized  coster  of  the 
lowest  pattern,  just  drunk  enough  to  be  reckless, 


l88         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

both  as  to  fists  and  epithets.  A  black  eye  and 
a  slightly  ensanguined  nose,  which  bore  witness 
to  the  length  and  purpose  of  his-  antagonist's 
arm,  had  not  yet  cooled  his  ardor;  and,  as  he 
varied  his  amusements  by  throwing  mud  and 
stones  from  the  road,  Mr.  Tyrawley  became 
tired,  and  gave  his  adhesion  to  the  remark  of  a 
woman  in  the  crowd  that  "it  was  a  shame,  and 
should  her  little  boy  fetch  the  copper  ?  "  with  a 
breathless,  though  cool,  "Yes,  please,  I'm  get- 
ting a  trifle  warm."  He  added,  in  a  momentary 
lull,  to  the  occupier  of  his  left  arm  :  "  No,  my 
good  woman,  I  won't  hurt  him  much;  but  I'm 
afraid  he'll  hurt  you." 

At  this  juncture,  however,  a  large  figure  in  a 
sleeved  waistcoat,  adorned  with  quite  an  erup- 
tion of  pearl  buttons,  shouldered  its  way  through 
the  crowd,  which  gave  way  with  extreme  polite- 
ness, shot  out  a  ponderous  arm,  and,  without 
more  ado  than  the  utterance  of  a  gruff,  "  Come 
along,  you,"  dragged  Tyrawley's  antagonist  by 
the  collar,  his  heels  scraping  uncomfortably  on 
the  road,  through  the  spectators,  and  administer- 
ing a  few  boxes  on  the  ear,  sent  him  flying,  by  a 
parting  shove,  down  a  steepish  side-street.  Mr. 
Naylor,  for  it  was  he,  then  returned,  with  a  view 
of  rebuking  his  gentleman  guv'nor  for  "getting 
in  with  that  low  lot";  but,  seeing  him  standing 
on  the  pavement  in  conversation  with  another 
swell,  he  modestly  withdrew. 

What  had  happened  meanwhile  was  this  :  The 


THE   HERO   OF   A   STREET    FIGHT  189 

woman  whom  Tyrawley  had  rescued  from  the 
brutality  of  her  husband  still  hung  around,  cry- 
ing, "Oh,  my  dear  !  you  meant  it  kind  to  me, 
and  you  have  a  pretty  face  to  go  home  with ;  but 
you  did  hit  my  master  cruel,  and  you're  always 
at  it,  from  what  I  hears,  fighting  other  blokes 
and  protecting  females  !  " 

These  words  reached  the  ears  of  Mr.  Paget, 
and  brought  a  cold  sneer  to  his  lips.  He  strolled 
up  to  the  unlucky  Tyrawley,  who,  endeavoring 
to  wipe  the  blood  and  mud  from  his  face,  had 
only  succeeded  in  making  himself  look  more  dis- 
reputable than  ever,  and  said  : 

"  A  most  admirable  character  !  " 

They  faced  one  another — the  respectable 
Pharisee  in  spotless  linen  and  broadcloth;  the 
unhappy  publican,  with  the  torn  fragment  of  his 
jersey  hanging  off  a  whiter  shirt-sleeve  than  usu- 
ally belongs  to  the  British  coster,  with  that  aspect 
of  ruffianism  which  is  imparted  by  hair  over  the 
eyes,  and  a  countenance  variegated  by  cuts  and 
bruises;  with  dilated  nostrils  and  galloping  heart. 

For  once  Tyrawley  was  not  cool,  for  he  saw 
the  fabric  of  that  castle  in  the  air  he  had  reared 
with  so  much  pain,  falling  upon  and  crushing  him. 

"Are  you  going,"  he  panted,  "to  tell  her 
this  ?  " 

"Which— the  fight,  or  the  female  ?  If  I  do,  I 
shall  not  ask  your  permission,  my  good  man. 
The  hero  of  a  street  brawl  must  expect  to  be 
public  property." 


190         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TVRAWLEY 

Tyrawley's  fingers  twitched  longingly.  Mr. 
Paget's  immaculate  turned-down  collar  pre- 
sented for  the  moment  an  almost  irresistible 
temptation.  They  glared  at  one  another  like 
two  stags  about  to  charge.  Then  Tyrawley 
thought  better  of  it,  forced  a  laugh,  and  a  short 
— "Thanks,  I  only  wanted  to  know,"  from 
between  his  clenched  teeth,  and  turned  on  his 
heel  with  white  lips  and  a  moral  and  physical 
heart-sinking  hard  to  hear;  while  Mr.  Paget 
proceeded  jauntily  on  his  way.  But  the  hero  of 
this  ignoble  battle  pulled  himself  together  dog- 
gedly after  a  moment,  remembering  the  high 
courage  and  tender  trust  of  which  he  had  had 
some  proof  already. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands 
and  looked  rather  careworn  when  he  reached 
his  eyrie.  He  had  borrowed  a  bottle  of  half- 
dried  ink  from  his  landlady,  and  purchased  a 
pennyworth  of  stationery  on  his  way,  but  now 
he  sat  with  it  before  him,  and  found  the  letter 
hard  to  write,  because  he  wanted  to  say  so 
much  and  could  say  so  little.  He  wrote  it  at 
last,  however;  the  self-restraint  to  which  he 
was  inured  by  past  and  present  standing  him  in 
good  stead  : 

"Mv  DEAR  Miss  ST.  JUST: 

"Your  cousin,  Mr.  Paget,  has  seen  me  under 
circumstances  which  tell  so  much  against  me 
that  I  feel  I  have  a  right  to  give  some  explana- 


THE    HERO  .OF    A    STREET    FIGHT  IQI 

tion ;  especially,  as  he  not  only  gave  me  no  chance 
of  doing  so,  but  declared  his  purpose  of  telling 
you  what  he  saw. 

"  I  know  it  looked  awfully  bad,  and  my  appear- 
ance must  have  been  very  disreputable;  but  you 
will  understand  it  all  when  I  explain  what  I  have 
only  kept  from  you  because  I  was  afraid  you 
would  overrate  the  hardships  of  my  present  life. 
I  am  earning  my  living  honestly,  for  the  first 
time,  by  selling  fruit  at  a  street-stall.  Pray 
don't  be  too  much  shocked,  or  in  the  least 
grieved;  I  am  much  more  comfortable  than  you 
can  possibly  imagine.  The  life  is  healthy  and 
clean,  though  a  little  rough;  my  fellow-mer- 
chants are  civil  and  jolly,  and  I  am  getting  on 
well.  I  go  to  church  every  Sunday,  and,  by 
God's  grace,  I  have  kept  and  improved  on  my 
promises. 

"  As  to  the  row  in  which  your  cousin  saw  me 
engaged,  I  was  defending  a  poor  little  woman 
from  a  murderous  attack,  and,  if  only  for  your 
sake,  I  could  do  no  less,  and  would  do  it  again, 
for  I  am  sure  of  your  approval.  So  please  for- 
give appearances,  and  believe  this  is  the  whole 
truth.  You  and  your  mother  will  understand 
why  I  don't  write  what  I  long  to  write.  I  hope 
you  will  honor  me  by  accepting  my  photo  in  full 
costume.  Yours  no  eye  has  ever  seen  since 
dear  old  MacAdam  gave  it  to  me.  I  hope  you 
are  enjoying  yourself.  Let  no  thought  of  me 
bother  you,  or  make  you  in  the  least  anxious. 


IQ2          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

All  is  well.     Do  not  trouble  to  answer  this,  if 
Mrs.    St.   Just   objects.     I  never  want   to   be   a 
sorrow  to  you  again.     God  bless  you. 
"Always  believe  me, 

"Your  humble  servant, 

« j   T  " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A    BUSINESS    BANQUET 

THE  St.  Justs  had  encamped  on  the  seashore; 
the  blue  waves  of  the  Mediterranean,  crystal- 
edged,  lipped  lazily  on  the  golden  sand;  the 
violet  hills  lay  behind  them;  the  white  villas 
glittered  like  mother-of-pearl  in  the  meridian 
sunlight. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  dozed  in  the  shadow  of  a  rock; 
Bertie  prospected  for  shells  and  bits  of  coral, 
southern  languor  failing  to  tame  his  national 
restlessness;  Nina  read  and  dreamed  by  turns. 

A  small  Italian  boy,  son  of  one  of  their 
servants,  darted  like  a  brown  butterfly  across 
the  rocks  and  sands  with  a  letter  for  the 
signorina,  to  which  he  added  the  information, 
scarcely  heard  and  altogether  unrealized,  that 
an  English  lord  was  on  his  way  from  the  Villa 
Perla,  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  ladies. 

The  attention  of  one  of  the  latter  was  at  the 
moment  far  too  much  occupied  with  the  fortunes 
or  misfortunes  of  one  British  costermonger  to  be 
diverted  by  a  whole  House  of  Lords,  and  it  was 
perhaps  scarcely  a  propitious  hour  for  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  John  Paget  ;  which,  nevertheless,  took 
13 


194         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

place  just  as  Nina  had  read  Tyrawley's  letter  for 
the  second  time. 

Under  her  still  aspect  there  was  a  tempest  of 
powerless  pain  and  indignation,  which  the  heroism 
of  careless  cheerfulness,  which  made  light  of  his 
own  hardships,  and  tenderly  guarded  her  from 
annoyance, — even  his  reticence  from  open  expres- 
sions of  devotion, — rather  increased  than  abated. 

It  is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  Paget's 
offered  hand  met  no  response  save  a  frozen 
glance. 

"My  child,"  cried  Mrs.  St.  Just,  "  don't  you 
see  your  cousin  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  see  him,"  said  Miss  Nina,  with  the  tip 
of  her  lips.  Then  she  averted  her  eyes,  as  some 
people  do  from  toads  or  lizards. 

His  fell  on  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  he 
divined  the  truth,  and  developed  a  chilly  spite- 
fulness,  not  unlike  that  of  some  smaller  reptiles. 
"My  dear  aunt,"  he  said,  "my  cousin  is  not  to 
blame  for  her  pleasant  demeanor;  for  I  think  I  am 
right  in  supposing  that  that  very  objectionable 
person  Tyrawley,  who  caused  us  such  annoyance 
last  autumn,  has  thrust  on  her  a  garbled  account 
of  a  certain  discreditable  affair,  of  which  he  knew 
I  should  give  you  a  true  version  on  my  arrival. 
Come  and  shake  hands,  Bertie." 

But  Bertie  stood  afar  off,  with  folded  arms,  like 
an  infant  Napoleon,  and  said,  "  Sha'n't !" 

"Oh,  dear  me,  John!"  said  Mrs.  St.  Just, 
collapsing  on  her  cushions  and  shawls.  "  I  do 


A    BUSINESS   BANQUET  195 

wish,  I'm  sure,  we  had  never  set  eyes  on  that 
man  ;  for  his  manners  were  certainly  lovely, 
though,  no  doubt,  a  take-in." 

"  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  perfectly  sincere,"  said 
her  step-daughter.  "  When  we  are  alone  I'll  read 
you  his  letter,"  and  she  flashed  a  glance  of  defi- 
ance like  summer  lightning  at  Mr.  Paget,  who 
merely  elevated  his  chin,  spread  a  silk  pocket- 
handkerchief  on  a  smooth  rock,  and  seated  him- 
self calmly  upon  it. 

"  Oh,  show  the  letter  to  your  cousin  John,  my 
dear;  he  is  a  far  better  judge  than  I  am,  and 
quarrels  in  families  are  so  dreadful,"  sighed  Mrs. 
St.  Just. 

But  Nina  drew  her  slender  brows  together,  and 
shook  her  small  head  with  a  gesture  which  needed 
no  verbal  confirmation. 

"Well,  my  dear  aunt,"  said  Mr.  Paget,  "I 
don't  like  to  speak  of  these  things-  before  girls, 
but  my  cousin  needs  to  be  made  aware  of  the 
real  pursuits  of  the  person  whose  cause  she  takes 
up  so  ardently." 

"Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  us  the  truth, 
John,"  said  his  aunt. 

"I  only  stay,"  remarked  Miss  Nina  pleas- 
antly, "to  hear  what  falsehoods  Mr.  Paget  will 
tell." 

Bertie  encouraged  his  sister  after  the  fashion 
of  small  boys  applauding  one  another  at  cricket — 
"Good  old  Nina!"  and  Mr.  Paget  began  his 
narrative  with  the  air  of  a  superior  martyr. 


196         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"I  was  going,"  said  he,  "to  lunch  with  my 
friends  the  Thirlbys  at  Grasswich,  and  as  I  have 
had  a  touch  of  liver  complaint  of  late,  I  walked 
across  from  a  place  which  you,  my  dear  aunt, 
have  probably  never  heard  of — a  low,  working- 
man  sort  of  a  place  called  Plebham.  In  the  main 
street  I  found  a  most  disreputable  crowd  col- 
lected, and  as  I  took  a  circuit,  to  avoid  being 
shouldered  by  cads,  my  eye  fell  on  two  men  and 
a  woman,  who  were  engaged  in  a  drunken  brawl, 
at  which  even  some  of  the  low  people  standing 
by  cried  'Shame  ! '  for  a  big  man  was  knocking 
about  a  little  one,  because,  apparently,  the  latter 
had  objected  to  the  endearments  the  former  was 
offering  to  his  wife. 

"I  could  not  pollute  your  ears  or  my  cousin's 
with  the  expressions  they  used, — the  vilest  lan- 
guage of  the  slums,  of  course, — but  you  may 
imagine  my  dismay  when  I  recognized  in  the  big 
bully,  who  was  in  rags,  covered  with  mud  and 
blood,  and  evidently  intoxicated,  a  man  who  had 
the  impudence  to  force  himself  on  your  acquaint- 
ance— the  swindler  Tyrawley. " 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Paget  uttered  a  natural 
cry  of  pain,  for  a  small  pebble,  winged  by  the 
unerring  hand  of  Master  Bertie,  had  smitten  him 
on  the  nose. 

"  For  shame,  Bertie  !  "  said  his  mother. 

"He  sha'n't  tell  such  bally  lies  about  my 
friends,"  cried  he,  collecting  fresh  ammunition. 

Nina  called  him  to  her  fondly.      "  Come  here, 


A   BUSINESS   BANQUET  197 

darling,"  said  she.  "You  can't  do  him  any  good 
by  that;  but  we  believe  in  him,  don't  we  ? " 

"Rather !  "  said  he.  "  I  mean  sticking  to  him 
through  thick  and  thin.  I  know  if  Tyrawley  was 
knocking  about  a  littler  chap  than  himself,  he 
must  have  been  sneaking,  or  beating  a  woman,  or 
something." 

Nina  kissed  him  admiringly,  and  Mrs.  St.  Just, 
though  murmuring  that  he  was  only  a  child,  and 
could  not  know  as  well  as  his  dear  cousin,  looked 
rather  uncertain. 

"  I  spoke  to  the  fellow,"  said  Mr.  John  Paget, 
much  aggravated,  "and  he  scarcely  denied  it; 
and  I  found  on  enquiry  that  he  is,  in  fact,  one  of 
a  gang  of  common  costermongers,  and  that  he, 
and  a  bosom  friend  of  his,  as  big  a  ruffian  as  him- 
self, are  the  terror  of  the  neighborhood.  After 
this  painful  occurrence,  my  dear  aunt,"  he  added, 
"can  it  be  your  wish  that  my  cousin  should  be  in 
touch  with  him  in  the  slightest  degree  ? " 

Nina  rose  up,  tall  and  stately,  with  a  fierce 
color  in  her  usually  pale  qheeks,  and,  standing  by 
her  mother's  shoulder,  held  the  letter  she  had 
just  received  under  her  eyes. 

She  puzzled  it  out,  with  muttered  "  Dear  me's," 
and  a  suspicious  dimness  of  her  eye-glasses,  and 
looked  helplessly  from  her  daughter  to  her 
nephew.  "  He  certainly  explains  it  beautifully," 
said  she.  "And  he  always  was  most  gentle- 
manly, and,  of  course,  we  know  a  man  may  rise 
from  sixpence  in  his  pocket  to  millions.  I'm  sure 


198         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

I  don't  know  what  to  think,  for  John  has  only 
your  interests  at  heart,  have  you,  John,  and  the 
honor  of  the  family  ? " 

"  Exactly,  my  dear  aunt.  I  feel  certain  my 
cousin  will  see  her  folly  some  day." 

"  She  does  now,"  said  Miss  Nina,  "  in  listening 
to  another  word  iromyou.  Thank  you,  mother, 
for  speaking  so  kindly  of  Mr.  Tyrawley." 

Then  she  took  back  the  letter,  and  walked 
away  with  Bertie's  arm  round  her  waist,  allow- 
ing that  young  gentleman  to  read  it,  much  to  his 
satisfaction  and  importance. 

"I  say,  Nin,"  said  he  presently,  looking  up 
into  her  face,  "are  you  going  to  marry  Tyraw- 
ley ?  " 

" Perhaps  he  won't  ask  me." 

"Yes,  he  does  sing  precious  small,  doesn't  he? 
My  eye!  I  wouldn't  be  any  girl's  'humble 
servant.'  Well,  if  he  shouldn't,  I'll  tell  you  what 
you  must  do — I've  read  of  lots  of  princesses  and 
swells  like  that  doing  it — you  must  ask  him  to 
marry  you  !  " 

"I  think,"  said  she,  with  a  blush,  "I  had 
better  wait  a  little  while  for  that." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  he,  giving  her  a  hug. 
"There's  no  hurry;  I  ain't  tired  of  you  yet." 

Mr.  Paget's  visit  was  scarcely  an  agreeable 
episode  to  any  of  the  party,  except,  perhaps, 
Bertie,  who,  like  the  stormy  petrel,  enjoyed 
troubled  waves.  Mrs.  St.  Just,  who  was,  above 
all  things,  good-natured,  and  who  could  not  forr 


A    BUSINESS   BANQUET  199 

get  the  agreeable  courtesies  of  Mr.  Tyrawley, 
had  been  considerably  touched  by  his  letter; 
which  Mr.  Paget  perceiving,  his  hatred  for  that 
unlucky  individual  naturally  waxed  much 
stronger.  Nina,  except  in  public,  sent  him 
virtually  to  Coventry,  while  Bertie  went  the 
length  of  brushes  in  his  bed  and  pins  in  his  chair. 
So,  after  a  very  short  visit,  he  departed  in  a  huff, 
with  a  cold,  inner  resolution,  scarcely  perhaps 
owned  to  himself,  that  Tyrawley  should  stand 
between  him  and  his  relatives  no  more. 

Mrs.  St.  Just  to  Mr.  Tyrawley 

"DEAR  MR.  TYRAWLEY: 

"  I  cannot  see  what  business  it  is  of  my  Nina's 
whether  you  were  fighting  or  not;  but  she  is  so 
headstrong — for  all  the  world  like  my  poor  dear 
man — that  she  says  she  or  I  must  answer  your 
letter.  She  will  have  me  say  that  she  thinks  you 
were  perfectly  right;  but,  of  course,  at  my  age 
I  think  you  ought  to  have  given  him  in  charge 
of  the  police,  instead  of  mixing  yourself  up  with 
such  horrid  people;  for  though  I  don't  hold  with 
you  in  most  things,  I  don't  think  you  would  hurt 
any  body  in  that  way,  and  I  do  think  that  dear 
John,  although  he  is  such  an  excellent  young 
man,  may  have  made  a  mistake,  because  he 
never  fights  himself,  and  doesn't  know  what 
vice  is.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  have  given  up 
billiards  and  all  that,  but  it  is  a  pity  you  did  not 


200         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

drive  a  hansom  cab,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
as  most  fast  young  men  who  have  lost  their 
money  do. 

"  My  children  send  their  love,  and  I  am  still 
grateful  to  you  for  saving  their  lives,  though  I 
am  sure  we  have  had  no  peace  in  our  family 
since  we  knew  you. 

"With  kind  regards, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 
"  M.  A.  ST.  JUST. 


Mr.  Tyrawley  read  this  epistle  with  mingled 
feelings.  The  touch  of  kindness  toward  him- 
self was  cheering;  but,  though  unselfish,  he 
was  human,  and  longed  for  a  word  from  Nina 
herself. 

The  novelty  of  his  position  having  worn  off, 
its  comic  side  became  less  apparent  and  its  mo 
notony  settled  heavily  upon  him.  Mr.  Naylor, 
though  most  friendly,  had  a  bounded  horizon, 
and  he  had  no  other  companions.  However,  he 
worked  early  and  late,  solacing  himself  by  an 
occasional  visit  to  the  free  library,  where  his 
fellow-visitors  were  much  edified  by  the  spectacle 
of  a  coster  reading  Homer  and  Dante,  in  the 
original;  and  yet  more  by  his  going  to  church  on 
Sundays,  where  he  always  felt  nearer  Nina  than 
anywhere  else,  and  whence  he  always  came  with 
a  light  on  his  face  which  astonished  Mr.  Naylor, 
who  regarded  church-going  merely  as  a  function 
calculated  at  the  best  to  produce  a  wholesome 


A    BUSINESS   BANQUET  2OI 

depression  and  thoughts  of  a  man's  latter  end; 
nor  could  Tyrawley  induce  him  to  accompany 
him  thither. 

"If  I  go  anywhere,"  he  remarked,  "it'll  be 
among  them  Salvationists.  I  might  take  a  sort 
of  fancy  to  them,  being  used  to  shouting;  but 
my  missis,  she  don't  approve  of  slips  of  girls 
setting  up  to  teach  their  grandmothers,  so  I 
ain't  on  at  present." 

In  a  few  weeks  a  shade  of  unaccountable 
mystery  was  visible  in  Mr.  Naylor.  He  gave 
his  gentleman  guv'nor  less  advice  and  more 
compliments,  observed  him  cautiously  during 
business  hours,  and  hinted  at  some  vast  but  dim 
project.  Finally,  he  one  day  abruptly  invited 
him  to  tea  at  his  own  residence. 

It  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  Mr.  Tyraw- 
ley had  tasted  his  hospitality,  but  there  was 
something  formal  and  ceremonial  in  his  manner, 
and  that  of  his  little  threadpaper  of  a  partner, 
on  whose  forehead  Mr.  Naylor's  "  goings  on  "  at 
intervals  had  imprinted  many  anxious  wrinkles. 

She  was  attired  in  a  stiff  and  crackling  silk, 
an  apocryphal  lace  collar,  and  a  brooch  like 
an  heraldic  shield;  while  tea  was  laid,  not  in 
the  cosey  little  kitchen,  but  in  the  tiny  par- 
lor, gaudy  and  chill,  whose  glories  increased 
the  solemn  pomp  of  Mr.  Naylor's  demeanor. 
Every  Plebham  delicacy  in  season  was  spread 
on  the  board;  the  toothsome  whelk,  the  allur- 
ing mussel,  the  modest  cockle,  were  flanked  by 


202         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

tinned  lobster  and  odoriferous  bloater.  Fruit, 
as  too  commonplace,  was  at  a  discount,  and 
intoxicants  were  omitted  out  of  compliment  to 
Mr.  Tyrawley's  presence. 

Mrs.  Naylor's  tea  was,  however,  as  black  as 
ink,  and  tasted  strongly  of  a  new  and  glittering 
plated  teapot. 

"  Piper's  best,"  remarked  Mr.  Naylor,  doing 
the  honors  with  a  graceful  wave  of  the  hand. 
"  His  fresh  butter  likewise — no  margarine  there; 
and  I'll  answer  for  it  them  herrin's  don't  hum. 
I  should  have  liked,"  he  added  pensively,  "just 
a  drop  to  make  a  cove  a  bit  balmy.  There's 
some  would  go  the  length  of  a  'tin  hat,' *  or 
even  a  '  brass  helmet,'  *  on  such  an  event  ;  but  I 
know  it  ain't  your  way,  so  it's  no  good." 

Mrs.  Naylor,  shedding  at  the  door  a  large 
white  apron,  now  took  her  place  behind  the  tea- 
tray,  while  her  husband,  after  breathing  hard  for 
a  moment,  ducked  his  head  and  muttered — "For 
which  be  thankful,"  with  an  indistinct  idea  of 
consummating  matters  by  the  rites  of  religion. 
He  then,  with  an  air  of  much  relief  and  light- 
ness of  heart,  concentrated  all  the  dishes  on  the 
table  round  his  guest's  plate,  and  invited  him  to 
"fall  to." 

It  is  difficult  to  acquire,  late  in  life,  a  taste  for 
the  smaller  shell-fish,  and  Tyrawley's  small  appe- 
tite was  an  ever  fresh  disappointment  to  the 
Naylors,  for  which  his  extreme  courtesy  could 
*  Plebham  idioms  for  stages  of  intoxication. 


A    BUSINESS   BANQUET  203 

hardly  make  up.  However,  the  meal  was  fin- 
ished at  last,  and  Mrs.  Naylor,  at  a  wink  from 
her  lord,  quitted  the  room. 

The  latter  then  cleared  a  space  for  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  and  propping  his  large  hairless  chin 
on  his  horny  palms,  said  ponderously  : 

"My  gentleman  guv'nor,  you  and  I  have  been 
pardners  in  the  barrow  trade  these  sixteen  weeks, 
and  never  a  wrong  word  betwixt  us  ;  and  you 
done  wonderful,  wonderful,  considering  what  you 
are,  and  what  I  and  t'other  blokes  is;  but" — 
and  he  laid  his  knobbly  forefinger  impressively 
on  the  other's  arm — "you're  too  good  for  us, 
and  that's  no  lie,  for  there's  many  says  it  besides 
me.  You  want  something  genteel  and  tiptop, 
you  do  ;  and  Jim  Naylor's  the  chap,  unless  I'm 
most  uncommonly  mistaken,  to  p'int  out  that 
very  thing  to  you." 

"My  dear  Jim,  you're  awfully  kind,  I'm  sure; 
but  there's  a  trifling  obstacle  which,  perhaps, 
you've  overlooked  ;  but  I  haven't,  because  " — 
with  a  slight  sigh,  and  a  vision  of  something 
very  different  to  Mr.  Naylor's  parlor — "it  is 
always  getting  in  my  way.  Genteel  and  tiptop 
things  cost  money,  old  fellow  ;  and  I  haven't 
got  it." 

"  Got  a  little,  ain't  you,  in  the  savings  bank  ?" 
pleaded  Mr.  Naylor.  "What  might  it  run  to 
now  ?  Excuse  my  asking." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  polite  Tyrawley.  "It 
runs,"  he  added  accurately,  "to  three  pounds, 


204         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

seventeen  shillings,  and  twopence  three  far- 
things." 

"A-a-h!"  said  Mr.  Naylor.  "I  pretty  well 
knew,  'cos,  you  see,  you  don't  spend  nothing, 
'cept  on  grub  and  soap  and  water.  But  why," 
he  added  persuasively,  "shouldn't  you  and  Jim, 
what  you  knocked  down  like  a  skittle,  and  picked 
up  and  treated  like  a  nobleman,  go  pardners  in 
something  better  than  a  barrow?"  Here  his 
persuasiveness  changed  suddenly  into  triumph, 
and  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "It's  a 
shop,  my  gentleman  guv'nor.  There  you  are  ! " 
and  pushed  under  Mr.  Tyrawley's  nose  a  simple 
but  formal  agreement  for  the  occupation  and 
tenancy  of  No.  i  Gregory  Street,  High  Street, 

Plebham,  by and on  the  one  side,  and 

William  Smith  on  the  other.  Tyrawley  was  a 
little  taken  aback  at  the  suddenness  of  the  sug- 
gestion ;  but  perceiving  that  Jim  was  no  more 
excited  than  was  natural  at  the  crisis  of  his  care- 
fully prepared  drama,  gave  full  and  earnest 
attention  to  that  worthy's  explanations. 

"  It  ain't  big,"  said  he,  "  nor  fashionable  at 
present,  nor  decorated.  It  '11  lay  with  you  to 
make  it  that  last,  and  have  all  the  best  in  Pleb- 
ham coming  in  their  one-horse  shays  to  buy. 
It  '11  come  cheap,  'cos  there  ain't  no  good-will  nor 
fixtures  to  pay  for,  seeing  as  the  last  bloke  that 
had  it  was  on  the  loose  continual,  and  let  it  run 
down  to  nothing,  and  ripped  up  the  counter  for 
firewood  to  bile  his  grog,  and  then  made  a  moon- 


A    BUSINESS   BANQUET  205 

light  flitting.  Still,  I  ain't  sorry,  for  I  do  hear 
as  the  landlord  is  the  nearest  old  file  going, 
though  rolling  in  wealth.  If  you  can  put  that 
there  three  pound  in,  and  I  puts  five  to  it,  we  can 
do  it  to  start  with — stock,  fixtures,  and  every 
thing.  Not  as  /  shall  be  there.  Oh,  no  !  " — and 
Mr.  Naylor  smiled  elaborately.  "Me!  I  don't 
know  nothing  about  shopkeeping.  I'm  a  coster, 
I  am.  I  can  shout  and  blarney,  and  bully-rag 
my  own  sort.  '  But  you  go  round  the  corner, 
mum,  and  you'll  find  at  the  fruiterer's  shop  a  toff 
as  can  talk  to  you  in  your  own  way,  and  sell  you 
a  pen'orth  'o  tummuts  as  if  he  was  spouting 
poetry  out  of  a  book,  which  he  done  me,  a  pore 
coster,  several  good  turns,  an'  I'll  do  him  one 
in  return,  if  I  can.'  Which,"  said  Mr.  Naylor, 
dropping  his  tone  of  affected  artlessness,  "is 
true,  you  may  take  your  oath  of  it." 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  Tyrawley,  rather 
moved,  "that  the  good  turns  are  all  on  your 
side." 

"No,  they  ain't.  You  just  ast  the  missis  if 
I've  ever  gone  on  the  straight  long  enough  to 
buy  her  a  silk  gownd  before,  and  a  brooch  as 
big  as  a  cheese-plate,  and  ain't  hit  her — well,  I 
don't  know  when"  said  Mr.  Naylor,  in  deep 
self-admiration. 

Then  he  took  Mr.  Tyrawley  to  look  at  the  out- 
side of  the  shop,  which  was  a  sort  of  excrescence 
on  the  front  of  a  fair-sized  house.  Its  dingy 
and  battered  shutters  were  closed,  and  the  name 


206         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

of  the  last  possessor,  Caleb  Collier,  was  scarcely 
visible  for  the  mud  with  which  the  youth  of 
Plebham  had  bespattered  the  shop-front.  But 
it  seemed  to  possess  capabilities;  and  then  the 
rent — eight  shillings  a  week — sounded  so  very 
low;  and  a  start  could  be  made  at  once,  at  the 
best  season  for  cheap  foreign  fruit;  and  Mr. 
Tyrawley  felt,  with  some  justifiable  pride,  that  he 
had  mastered  a  considerable  amount  of  useful 
knowledge  of  the  trade. 

"  Them  young  rascals  won't  come  annoying 
you  here,  nor  no  young  women  either,  wanting 
to  know  if  you're  suited  with  a  'tart,'  "  remarked 
Jim. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  blushed. 

"  And  you  won't  take  no  notice  of  me,  nor  me 
of  you,  except  passing  the  time  of  day,  as  my 
barrow  being  near  your  shop,  and  me" — and  he 
chuckled  immensely — "a  decent  kind  of  a  chap, 
for  a  coster." 

So  the  matter  was  virtually  settled,  and  in  due 
time  Mr.  Tyrawley  found  himself  part  owner  of 
the  Fruit  Stores,  i  Gregory  Street,  Plebham. 
He  would  have  put  his  name  over  the  door,  but 
for  one  very,  very  distant  and  utterly  dream-like 
possibility. 


CHAPTER  XX 
H  UNTED    DOWN 

THE  business  prospered,  though  with  that 
slow  and  infinitesimal  success  which  is  the  lot  of 
those  whose  capital  is  small,  and  who,  therefore, 
can  neither  risk  nor  gain  much.  Rates  and 
taxes,  and  the  numerous  small  outgoings  which 
beset  even  the  tenant  of  twelve  feet  by  ten, 
made  the  work  much  more  anxious  than  that  at 
the  barrow  had  been;  and  Mr.  Tyrawley  was, 
strange  to  say,  far  more  nervous  and  scrupulous 
about  small  debts,  and  what  are  called  "  busi- 
ness practices,"  than  the  ordinary  run  of  petty 
traders.  Then  he  became  rather  uneasy  about 
his  own  health;  because  sickness  meant  beggary. 
The  long  hours  in  the  little  gas-heated  shop, 
and  the  cold  market  mornings,  did  not  suit  him 
so  well  as  the  open  air.  He  caught  cold  upon 
cold;  grew  thin  and  hollow-eyed,  and  had  a 
settled,  hacking  cough;  all  of  which  facts  he 
scrupulously  kept  from  MacAdam,  lest  that 
worthy  physician  should  place  before  him  the 
alternative  of  taking  a  fortnight's  rest,  or  having 
his  physical  condition  reported  to  Miss  St.  Just. 
Indeed,  just  because  he  felt  ill  and  had  a  super- 


208         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

stitious  notion  that  she  would  somehow  divine  it, 
he  ventured,  having  his  promised  photograph  to 
send,  to  write  to  her  mother,  and  wrote  very 
cheerfully;  drawing  such  a  bright  picture  of  his 
daily  existence  that  the  proud,  sensitive  girl, 
conscious  of  the  slightness  of  the  tie  between 
them,  felt  he  was  almost  too  happy  without  her. 
He  did  not  look  ill  in  his  photo,  and  having  on 
reflection  eschewed  the  jersey  for  that  occasion, 
not  wishing  to  pose  as  a  martyr,  rather  overdid 
things.  So  she  wrote  very  cheerfully  and  rather 
conventionally  in  return;  and  the  unfortunate 
lover  felt  proportionately  snubbed  and  downcast. 
However,  he  worked  on  fiercely,  early  and  late, 
in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  the  faithful  Jim, 
and  was  in  a  very  fair  way  to  cut  the  Gordian 
knot  of  his  difficulties  by  working  himself  to  death, 
when  a  new  and  serious  complication  arose. 

A  restlessness,  quite  foreign  to  Mr.  J.  Paget's 
well-regulated  mind,  had  beset  that  gentleman 
since  his  return  from  abroad;  it  carried  him 
once  or  twice  into  High  Street,  Plebham;  but,  of 
course,  he  never  saw  the  object  of  his  visit,  who 
was  safely  ensconced  behind  his  own  counter  in 
Gregory  Street. 

At  last  he  took  a  resolution  to  question  the 
first  costermonger  he  should  see,  and  chanced  on 
Mr.  Naylor,  who,  trade  being  slack  and  the  morn- 
ing warm,  was  leaning  in  an  attitude  of  agreeable 
languor  against  a  lamp-post  near  his  barrow. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Mr.  Paget.    Mr.  Naylor, 


HUNTED    DOWN  209 

whose  manners  were  primitive,  merely  stared. 
He  was  apt  to  attach  an  undue  importance  to 
muscular  development  in  the  male  of  his  own 
species,  and  Mr.  Paget's  five  foot  six  of  long 
body  and  short  legs,  surmounted  by  a  rather 
mean  head,  did  not  impress  him.  "I  think," 
said  Paget,  endeavoring  to  be  amiably  patroniz- 
ing, "  I  think  I've  seen  you  about  here  before." 

"  Might,"  said  Jim,  not  removing  his  pipe, 
"  or,  similarly,  mightn't.  What  d'yer  want  ?  " 

Mr.  Paget  had  not  expected  so  pointed  a 
query.  "I — er — should  be  so  much  obliged,  my 
good  man "  he  began. 

"No,"  said  Jim,  expectorating  with  a  sudden- 
ness which  caused  his  questioner  to  retire  pre- 
cipitately. "  Don't  yer  come  that,  my  jolly 
toff;  I  ain't  a  good  man,  but  a  bad  'un,  as  cuts 
up  rough  when 'he's  aggrawated  wi'  questions." 

Mr.  Paget  was  not  without  courage;  few  peo- 
ple whose  self-esteem  is  high  are;  moreover,  he 
was  animated  by  two  feelings  which  make  even 
cowards  bold — love  and  hatred.  So,  accommo- 
dating himself,  as  far  as  he  knew  how,  to  Jim's 
humor,  he  said,  "Ah!  rough  and  ready,  I  see. 
Pray  can  you  tell  me  any  thing  about  a — a  per- 
son named  Tyrawley,  who,  I  think,  followed  the 
same  calling  as  yourself  somewhere  here?" 

Mr.  Naylor  stiffened,  and  glowered  down  with 
his  small,  fierce  blue  eyes  at  the  other,  taking 
in,  with  the  instinct  of  a  mischievous  child,  what 
would  be  the  most  annoying  reply  to  make. 
14 


210         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Him?"  said  he  deliberately.  "You  mean 
'Gentleman  Lee'?  He  ain't  in  my  line  now. 
Not  he;  should  say  he  was  a  big  swell,  what 
only  took  to  it  for  a  lark  or  a  wager — not  as  you 
or  me  might.  He's  got  a  stores  now,  he  has; 
and  before  long  he'll  have  'em  in  all  parts  of 
London.  Making  a  pot  of  money,  he  is  !  " 

"He's  a  sharp  man  of  business,  is  he,  then?" 
enquired  Mr.  Paget,  with  a  sickly  grin. 

"Sharp  ?  "  said  Mr.  Naylor.  "  I  should  think 
he  was.  Sharp!  Cuts  'em  all  out,  he  does. 
Top  o'  the  tree,  he'll  be.  And  I  know,"  added 
he,  with  the  air  of  one  strictly  understating  the 
truth,  "his  landlord  thinks  so,  too.  Means  to 
offer  him  the  whole  block  of  shops.  He's  a 
downy  cove,  Smith  of  Grasswich  is;  made  his 
own  pile  in  trade,  and  knows  a  clever  bloke 
when  he  sees  one." 

"An  upright  man?"  said  Paget  carelessly. 

"Dun'no*  about  upright,"  returned  Jim,  with 
a  stare;  "must  be  getting  on  in  life — a  bit 
stooped  in  the  shoulders." 

"I  mean,"  said  Mr.  Paget,  "fair,  honorable?" 

"  Fair  and  square,  and  likes  other  people  fair 
and  square,  too.  Turns  his  tenants  out,  if  they 
ain't." 

Mr.  Paget's  chill  eye  lightened,  and  his  heart 
was  uplifted  within  him.  He  saw  light  at  the 
end  of  the  very  humbling  underground  path  he 
had  been  treading. 

"Indeed  !  "  said  he,  with  an  indifference  poor 


HUNTED    DOWN  211 

Jim  quite  failed  to  penetrate.  "  I  think,  now  you 
mention  his  name,  some  friends  of  mine  at  Grass- 
wich  know  him.  A  large  house,  has  he  not  ?  " 

"I  believe  yer.  And  two  matched  parlor- 
maids like  a  pair  of  ponies,  'cos  he  can't  abear 
flunkeys,  and  only  one  'oss  for  his  brougham; 
but  he  is  a  'oss.  And  a  cob  that's  up  to  fifteen 
stone,  and  yet  as  good  bred  as  a  Derby  winner. 
Ah,  he  is  a  man,  he  is ! "  And  Mr.  Naylor 
smacked  his  lips  and  spat  admiringly. 

"A  kind  man?"  suggested  Mr.  Paget  inno- 
cently. "As  he  rose  from  small  beginnings 
himself,  would  take  a  servant  without  a  charac- 
ter, and  so  on  ?" 

"Well,  you  are  a  soft!"  replied  the  scornful 
Naylor,  "  not  to  know  them  sort's  always  the 
'ardest  over  any  little  bit  of  a  slip.  Why,  he's 
down  on  'em  like  a  cartload  o'  bricks,  in  course, 
and  says  justice  comes  afore  mercy." 

Mr.  Paget  sang  a  little  tune  in  the  gayety  of 
his  heart,  and  remarked  that  doubtless  this  side 
of  Mr.  W.  Smith's  character  would  not  concern 
Mr.— Mr.— T.  Rawley. 

"Not  it,"  said  the  exultant  Jim.  "  He's  all 
right,  he  is.  If  he  weren't,  would  all  the  ladies 
take  to  him  like  they  do  ?  " 

"  Do  they,  indeed  ?  " 

Mr.  Naylor,  nettled  by  what  he  thought 
scepticism,  asseverated,  even  with  blasphemies, 
that  they  did;  and  related  real  and  imaginary 
instances  of  the  effects  of  Mr.  Tyrawley's  looks 


212         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  ways,  which  Mr.  Paget  took  in  with  an 
amount  of  faith  quite  touching  in  so  clear-headed 
a  gentleman. 

"And  where,"  said  he,  as  he  casually  tendered 
Mr.  Naylor  a  small  coin,  and  thanked  him  for 
his  agreeable  conversation,  "is  this  accom- 
plished gentleman's  business  residence?" 

Perhaps  it  was  the  smallness  of  the  coin,  per- 
haps a  touch  of  eagerness  in  the  tone,  which 
suddenly,  and  late,  aroused  Mr.  Naylor's  suspi- 
cions, for  he  replied,  with  a  gloomy  brow  and 
considerable  rudeness  : 

"That  ain't  no  business  of  yours.  And  look 
here,  my  fine  feller,  I  don't  know  whether  you're 
a  'torney's  clerk,  or  what,  but  I  do  know  if  you 

jabbers  to  me  any  more "  And  he  exhibited, 

close  to  Mr.  Paget's  nose,  four  grimy  and 
powerful  knuckles,  which  caused  his  instant 
retreat. 

F6rtune,  however,  favored  him;  for,  turning 
down  the  next  street,  and  happening  to  glance 
in  at  a  shop  window,  he  beheld  the  very  object 
of  his  search.  He  drew  himself  together  for  a 
moment,  with  the  fixed  eye  of  an  animal  catching 
sight  of  its  natural  prey,  then  strode  supercil- 
iously in. 

It  was  a  warm  morning,  one  of  those  mornings 
which  are  pleasant  for  idling,  but  fatiguing  for 
work,  and  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves — 
which  were  colored,  because  washing  is  expen- 
sive— perspiring  at  every  pore,  because  he  was 


HUNTED   DOWN  213 

weak,  and  with  his  hair  in  damp  masses  on  his  fore- 
head, because  even  hair-cutting  costs  something. 

He  looked,  moreover,  haggard  and  grimy ; 
lifting  heavy  fruit-hampers  being  incompatible 
with  gentlemanly  ease  and  the  more  delicate 
extremes  of  cleanliness.  He  was  speeding  two 
rough  boys  on  their  morning  errands;  serving 
two  fat  women  with  onions  and  turnips,  and 
hurriedly  jotting  down  accounts  with  a  hand  that 
trembled  from  overstrain  of  mind  and  body, 
while  he  replied,  in  a  rather  faint  and  sickly 
manner,  to  the  witty  remarks  of  a  neighbor  and 
customer,  who  was  leaning  on  the  little  counter, 
eating  a  squashy  banana. 

Mr.  Paget  glanced  round  the  dingy  little  shop, 
which  all  the  scrubbing  in  the  world  would  not 
brighten;  observed  the  patches  on  Tyrawley's 
shirt,  the  shabbiness  of  his  professional  blue 
apron;  how  much  the  homely  onion  and  orange 
predominated  over  more  aristocratic  matters  in 
his  modest  stock,  and  perceived  that  Mr.  Naylor's 
account  had  been  highly  colored. 

He  saw  also,  however,  with  a  grudging  admira- 
tion, how  desperately — and  not  altogether  unsuc- 
cessfully— his  rival  was  struggling  ;  and  a  des- 
perate rival  is  dangerous. 

Their  eyes  met,  as  they  had  met  in  the  road 
after  Tyrawley's  fight;  but  there  was  no  greet- 
ing beyond  that  look.  Tyrawley  was  haughtily, 
and  the  other  spitefully,  silent.  At  last  he  said 
patronizingly: 


214         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  Come,  this  is  better  than  gambling  or  street- 
fighting.  But  you  do  not  appear  to  improve  in 
health,  Mr.  Tyrawley." 

Now,  Tyrawley  was  fagged  out  of  self-control, 
and  acutely  conscious  of  his  own  disadvantages 
as  to  appearance,  and  of  the  fact  of  Paget  being 
more  than  usually  cool,  smug,  and  speckless. 
Moreover,  people  whose  hearts  are  weak  are 
physically  inclined  to  irritability.  So  he  turned 
white  with  passion,  and  panted  under  his  breath: 

"Leave  this  place,  please!" 

"I  want,"  said  Mr.  Paget  calmly,  "six 
bananas,  if  they  are  good." 

One  of  the  fat  women  smiled  amiably.  She 
had  not  caught  Mr.  Tyrawley's  angry  whisper, 
and  was  congratulating  him  on  a  new  and  well- 
dressed  customer;  but  she  was  undeceived  next 
moment.  A  scarlet  danger-spot  appeared  on  Mr. 
Tyrawley's  cheek. 

"If  you  don't  go "  he  exclaimed — aloud 

this  time.  A  long  arm  shot  across  the  counter 
pointed  the  observation. 

The  prudent  enemy  backed  a  step  or  two. 
"You  must  be  mad,  or  drunk,  to  speak  so  to  a 
gentleman,"  he  said.  "However,"  and  he  turned 
away,  "  I'll  see  you  again." 

The  fat  woman  went  away  too,  sorrowing  and 
puzzled,  and  Tyrawley  sat  down,  dejected. 

"  That  beggar  was  bitter  enough  against  me 
already,"  said  he,  "and,  like  a  fool,  I've  made 
him  ten  thousand  times  worse  by  my  cheek — as 


• 


HUNTED    DOWN  215 

he  no  doubt  considers  it.  He  means  me  some 
ill,  I  can  see  plainly  enough,  but  I  don't  know 
what  he  can  do  that  he  hasn't  done.  I've  got  a 
clean  sheet  here,  that's  one  comfort,  whoever  he 
may  ask." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Naylor,  with  the 
stealthy  tread  and  backward  glance  of  the  stage 
villain,  appeared  on  the  threshold,  and,  closing 
the  door  elaborately  behind  him,  pointed  with 
his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  and  enquired 
hoarsely. 

"Pal  of  yourn?" 

"  Quite  on  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley. 
"  My  greatest  enemy,  Jim,  except  myself." 

Jim  smote  his  large  thigh  penitently.  "  Busted 
if  I  didn't  think  so  !  And  here  have  I  been  talk- 
ing to  him  like  a  brother  for  the  best  half  of  ten 
minutes." 

"What  about  ?  "  said  Tyrawley  dejectedly. 

'•  Why,  the  big  trade  you  was  doing — cracked 
it  up  like  one  o'clock,  I  did.  But  why  the  p'lice- 
man  should  he  want  to  know  if  your  landlord 
was  a  hard  'un  or  a  soft  'un  ?" 

Mr.  Tyrawley's  eyes  widened  hopelessly.  "  Oh, 
I  see  !  "  said  he  very  gently. 

"  See  what,  my  gentleman  guv'nor  ?  Tell  us," 
entreated  the  penitent  Naylor.  "  Ain't  been  and 
upset  your  apple-cart,  have  I  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid,  my  dear  Jim,  it's  just  what  you 
have  done.  But  never  mind,  old  chap.  That 
swell  has  resolved  to  hunt  me  down,  sooner  or 


2l6         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

later,"  said  Tyrawley  bitterly.  "What  he  will 
do  now  is  to  find  out  my  landlord,  and  give  him 
a  dramatized  version  of  my  past  career,  which  I 
have  sketched  for  you." 

"But,"  objected  Mr.  Naylor  feebly,  "what's 
a  trick  or  two  with  cards,  or  a  pea  and  thimble, 
or  that  ? " 

"Enough  to  spoil  me,  I'm  afraid.  I  may  as 
well  shut  up  shop  before  I  bring  my  ill-luck  on 
you,  my  esteemed  partner."  And  he  sat  down 
on  a  pile  of  baskets  and  stared  doggedly  into 
vacancy. 

Mr.  Naylor  whistled  and  stuck  his  thumbs  into 
his  trousers  pockets,  and  there  was  silence  for 
a  minute  or  two  within  the  shop;  while  without, 
in  the  sunshine,  the  usual  workaday  noises 
of  a  London  suburb  sounds  rather  languidly 
through  the  warm  air.  It  seemed  to  Mr.  Tyraw- 
ley that  the  small  footing  he  had  gained  with 
such  labor  and  pain  on  Fortune's  slippery  ladder 
was  sliding  away.  A  gleam  and  a  waft  of  light, 
color,  perfume,  from  a  far-off  Italian  seashore  ; 
its  purple  hills,  its  flowery  fields,  its  silver  sea, 
seemed  to  drift  toward  him  and  then  be  blotted 
out  by  a  black  cloud  of  despair.  His  body  was 
sick  and  aching,  and  his  soul  faint. 

"  Old  man,"  said  he  wearily,  looking  up  at 
Mr.  Naylor,  "there's  nothing  doing,  and  I  don't 
feel  over  well.  I  think  I'll  go  to  my  diggings 
and  get  to  bed." 

Jim  stared  with  unmeasured  surprise,  slightly 


HUNTED    DOWN  217 

tinged  with  reproach.  "  Guv'nor,"  he  exclaimed 
pathetically,  "you  ain't  never  funking  'cos  of 
that  whipper-snapper  ?" 

"You  don't  understand,"  said  Tyrawley, 
rather  stung  by  the  touch  of  scorn  he  thought 
he  detected  in  Mr.  Naylor's  wonder.  "Fists 
ain't  every  thing,  Jim." 

"  I  should  like  to  show  him  they  was  sumfin, 
though,"  said  Naylor.  "Why,"  he  added  plead- 
ingly, "you  could  tackle  him  with  your  eyes  shut, 
and  one  hand  tied  behind  you." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  replied  Tyrawley,  smiling  faintly, 
"  he's  more  likely  to  tackle  me.  I'm  about  tired 
of  fighting,  to  tell  the  truth." 

"What  have  you  done  to  him?"  demanded 
Mr.  Naylor.  "Took  his  tart  away,  or  what  ?  " 

"He  hasn't  got  a  'tart'  that  I'm  aware  of," 
replied  Tyrawley  evasively  (he  had  not  confided  his 
love-story  to  Jim),  "but  he  hates  me  like  poison." 

"Well,"  muttered  Jim,  "if  him  and  me  ever 

comes  across  one  another "  An  ugly  look 

finished  that  part  of  the  sentence;  then  he 
resumed,  with  forced  cheerfulness,  "  Look  here, 
my  gentleman  guv'nor,  you  brace  up  a  bit  and 
stick  to  the  shop,  and  I'll  send  the  lad  round  to 
tell  my  missis  to  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit 
of  toast,  which  is  the  only  thing  as  I  can  take 
when  I've  got  the  bile.  She  can  keep  shop  while 
you're  having  it,  which  she's  good  at,  through 
having  been  akitching-maid  in  high  families,  and 
learned  manners,  which  I  never  could." 


2l8         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Tyrawley  assented  with  languid  gratitude,  too 
much  cast  down  to  combat  any  thing,  and  Mr. 
Naylor  retired.  When  clear  of  the  shop  he  went 
through  a  remarkable  pantomime.  He  placed 
himself  in  an  approved  position  of  attack,  rather 
than  defence,  danced  a  short,  grave  war-dance  on 
the  pavement,  to  the  delight  of  several  small 
boys,  remarked  to  one  of  them,  "Yes,  my  game- 
chick,  that  '11  do,"  took  a  coin  from  his  pocket, 
spat  on  it,  and,  looking  in  the  direction  in  which 
Mr.  Paget  had  retired,  sang  fervently,  but  with- 
out any  intention  of  profanity — for  he  did  not 
know  from  whence  it  came — two  lines  of  a 
popular  hymn: 

"  Will  you  meet  me  at  the  fountain  ? 
I  should  love  to  have  you  there  !  " 

and,   calmed  by  these  semi-religious    exercises, 
returned  to  his  barrow. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THAT    LITTLE    VIPER 

THAT  same  afternoon  Mr.  Paget,  having  paid 
a  polite  visit  to  his  friends  the  Thirlbys,  at  Grass- 
wich,  casually  asked  Mrs.  Thirlby,  at  its  close,  if 
she  would  mind  giving  him  a  line  of  introduction 
to  her  neighbor,  Mr.  William  Smith  of  The 
Oaks.  "I  hear  he  owns  a  large  amount  of  house 
property  at  Plebham,"  said  he,  "and  I  have  a 
small  sum  I  had  some  thought  of  investing  in 
that  direction.  I've  no  doubt  he  could  give  me 
most  valuable  advice.  Would  it  be  out  of  place, 
do  you  think,  if  I  were  to  call  there  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Thirlby  opined  that  business  was  never 
out  of  place  with  Mr.  Smith.  "Business  is 
every  thing  to  that  dear  man,"  said  she,  with 
that  attempt  at  fashionable  flippancy  noticeable 
in  City  ladies.  "  He  was,  you  know,  a  Catholic, 
but  somebody  of  his  own  religion  cheated  him 
egregiously,  and  now,  though  he  has  not  made 
•  any  profession  of  being  a  Protestant,  he  has  with- 
drawn every  penny  of  support  from  Catholic 
institutions." 

The  note  was  given,  and  Mr.  Paget  departed, 
quietly  exultant. 

The    Oaks   was   ponderously    handsome    and 


220         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

studiously  plain  in  every  particular  of  house  and 
garden.  The  study  was  no  cosey  male  boudoir, 
littered  with  pipes  and  novels,  or  curios  and 
Editions  de  luxe,  but,  as  Mr.  Smith  delighted  to 
call  it,  an  office,  with  piles  of  papers  and  ledgers. 
This  further  inspirited  Mr.  Paget.  Here  was 
soil  ready  for  the  seed  he  proposed  to  sow.  He 
sent  in  Mrs.  Thirlby's  note,  and  Mr.  Smith 
shortly  appeared.  He  was  tall,  stout,  erect;  his 
countenance  obstinate,  but  not  mean;  his  eye 
cold  and  penetrating,  but  straightforward;  a 
solid  nose,  broadish  in  the  bridge,  but  not  fleshy; 
a  long  upper  lip. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  nodding  to  his  visitor, 
"  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

Mr.  Paget  returned  the  greeting  with  agree- 
able respect,  and  entered  at  some  length  into  the 
object  of  his  visit. 

Now  Mr.  Smith  had  a  mania,  strictly  con- 
trolled by  caution  and  acuteness,  for  investments 
— his  own  or  his  friends'.  He  would  invest  in  a 
business,  a  man,  a  horse,  which  appeared  unre- 
munerative  to  others,  but  which  rarely  failed  to 
justify  his  fancy.  So  he  listened  complacently 
to  his  visitor's  statements,  and  was  specially 
interested  on  learning  that  his  desires  tended 
toward  house  property  in  Plebham. 

"  I  have  a  considerable  amount  there  myself," 
he  remarked,  "chiefly  managed  by  my  agent, 
though  I  occasionally  run  over.  Nothing  like 
personal  supervision,  sir." 


THAT    LITTLE   VIPER  221 

"I  am  a  careful  man  myself,"  replied  Mr. 
Paget  modestly,  "  but  a  mere  tyro  in  investment; 
that  is  why  I  sought  this  favor." 

A  discussion  on  the  merits  of  Plebham  as  a 
rising  suburb  followed,  and  for  a  moment  Mr. 
Paget  had  a  golden  vision  of  becoming  the  land- 
lord of  his  enemy  and  instantly  turning  him  out; 
but  this  choice  prospect  vanished  when  Mr. 
Smith  remarked  that  some  of  the  smaller  streets 
of  Plebham,  notably,  Manor,  Hazel,  and  Gregory, 
would  be  gold-mines  some  day. 

"  Two  of  them,  I  may  say,"  he  added,  "  I  own 
entirely." 

"  Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Paget  with  flattering  in- 
terest. "Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  think  I  happen 
to  know  something  about  one  of  your  tenants.  I 
was  passing  through  Plebham  to-day,  and,  very 
much  to  my  surprise,  saw  him,  apparently  at 
home,  behind  the  counter  of  a  most  respectable 
little  shop  in  one  of  the  streets  you  mention." 

"  I  hope  that  what  you  know  is  to  the  man's 
credit,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Paget,  as  if  the  avowal  were 
forced  out  of  him,  "  scarcely.  I'm  very  reluc- 
tant to  speak  evil  of  any  body,  but  after  your 
extreme  kindness,  sir,  in  placing  your  valuable 
experience  at  the  disposal  of  a  stranger,  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  tell  you  what  I  know." 

Smith  was  too  keen  a  man  not  to  see  that  this 
virtuous  reluctance  was  in  some  measure  assumed, 
so  he  very  calmly  said,  "  Would  you  object 


222         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

to   stating   facts  and    name  ? "   and   waited   for 
more. 

"The  place  I  saw  him  in,"  replied  Mr.  Paget, 
"was  called,  I  think,  the  Fruit  Stores;  and  I 
may  mention,  in  passing,  that  it  looked  extremely 
dirty.  His  customers  seemed  to  be  of  the  lowest 
class, — chiefly  women, — and  when  I  proposed  to 
purchase  a  little  fruit,  his  manner  was  most 
abusive — indeed,  the  fellow  actually  had  the  im- 
pudence to  order  me  out  of  the  shop,  with  a 
threatening  gesture.  But  I  think,"  he  added, 
with  an  air  of  strict  impartiality,  "from  his  ap- 
pearance, which  was  most  slovenly  and  disreput- 
able, that  he  had  been  drinking,  and  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  doing.  I  was  informed  that 
he  is  a  great  man  among  the  lowest  order  of 
costermongers  there — quite  their  hero — and  the 
name  he  goes  by  is,  I  am  told,  '  Gentleman 
Lee.'" 

"You  inferred,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  grim- 
ness  which  boded  ill  for  the  proprietor  of  the 
Fruit  Stores,  "that  you  had  known  the  man 
previously.  May  I  ask  his  character  and  cir- 
cumstances then?" 

"  Distinctly  shady,  I  regret  to  say,"  answered 
Mr.  Paget,  with  gusto.  "He  was,  in  fact,  a 
thorough  sharper,  a  chevalier  d' Industrie — quite  a 
notorious  character  at  Claretown,  where  he  had 
the  insolence  to  force  his  acquaintance  on  some 
relatives  of  my  own — a  widowed  aunt  and  her 
children.  They  were  simple  enough  to  invite 


THAT    LITTLE   VIPER  223 

him  to  their  country-house  (for  the  fellow's 
manners  are  plausible,  and  even  gentlemanly), 
but  I  soon  detected  the  imposture  and  expelled 
him  at  once.  The  name  he  went  by  there — no 
doubt  another  alias — was  Tyrawley." 

Had  Mr.  Paget  not  been  too  much  occupied 
with  his  own  passions,  he  would  here  have  per- 
ceived a  phenomenon  most  uncommon  in  Mr. 
Smith.  He  started.  It  was  the  very  slightest 
of  starts — a  lifting  of  the  eyelid,  a  tightening  of 
the  lip — no  more. 

"Indeed,"  he  said,  with  even  more  than  his 
usual  deliberation,  "I  thank  you  for  the  infor- 
mation, which  tallies  with  something  which  has 
reached  me.  I  shall  make  a  point  of  seeing  the 
man  and  his  shop  the  next  time  I  visit  Plebham, 
and  shall  probably  get  rid  of  him." 

"  He  is  a  dangerous,  insolent  person,"  said  Mr. 
Paget,  with  a  little  too  much  warmth  ;  "and  I 
am  sure  you  would  do  well." 

Mr.  Smith  made  no  further  remark  on  the  sub- 
ject till  ten  minutes  later,  when  Mr.  Paget  was 
taking  his  leave,  who,  feeling  he  could  not  bear 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  probable  downfall  of  his 
enemy,  asked,  with  much  humility : 

"Will  you  allow  me  the  honor  of  calling  on 
you  again,  should  I  be  in  the  neighborhood  ?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  other;  "and  I  shall 
hope  to  tell  you  that  your  friend  has  left  it." 

A  quicker  ear  than  Mr.  Paget's  might  have 
discerned  a  certain  tinge  of  distaste  in  Mr. 


224         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

Smith's  manner  ;  but  Mr.  Paget  saw  it  not,  and 
went  away  cheerful. 

The  proceedings  of  Mr.  Smith  were  now,  for  a 
person  of  his  character,  very  remarkable.  He 
stood  for  full  two  minutes  where  his  visitor  had 
left  him,  without  moving  a  muscle  ;  then  he 
slowly  and  thoughtfully  ascended  the  broad  oak 
staircase  to  his  bedroom,  locked  the  door, 
opened  the  secret  drawer  of  a  mahogany  secre- 
taire, and  extracted  therefrom  a  small,  faded 
water-color  sketch,  representing  a  big,  pale  boy 
with  a  thick  nose,  and  a  tiny,  blue-eyed  girl, 
hand  in  hand,  in  the  ungraceful  dress  of  forty  or 
fifty  years  back.  He  looked  at  this  work  of  art 
for  a  long  time,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
sighed,  looked  at  it  again.  A  stern  and  ugly 
look  passed  across  his  face  ;  a  soft  and  even 
wistful  one  replaced  it ;  finally,  he  put  back  the 
drawing  and  made  an  appointment  with  himself 
in  his  pocket-book  for  the  morrow:  "Plebham, 
Tyrawley,  Gregory  Street,  2.30." 

Next  day  an  elderly  gentleman  of  commanding 
presence,  in  speckless  broadcloth,  with  a  watch- 
chain  and  seal-ring  whose  weight  and  worth 
commanded  the  deepest  reverence  of  the  shop- 
men, walked  into  Brass's,  the  watchmaker's,  in 
High  Street,  Plebham,  and  requesting  that  some 
small  repair  might  be  done  straightway  to  the  ring 
of  his  watch,  conversed  affably  with  the  assistant 
meanwhile.  After  a  few  casual  questions,  he  en- 
quired if  the  jeweller  had  good  neighbors. 


THAT    LITTLE    VIPER  225 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  most  respectable!  Marks  & 
Jones,  across  the  road,  have  been  established 
forty  years  ;  Mr.  Hewlet,  next  door,  thirty. 
Our  left-hand  neighbor,  in  the  ham-and-beef  line, 
isn't  much  ;  but  beyond  him,  round  the  corner, 
there  is  a  little  fruit-shop,  and,  though  you 
mightn't  think  it,  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Tyrawley, 
is  quite  the  gentleman." 

"  Indeed  !    Idle  and  fine  and  so  on,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  far  from  it!"  said  Mr.  Brass's 
assistant,  who  knew  Tyrawley,  and  was  half  fas- 
cinated by  his  easy,  yet  lofty,  courtesy.  "He 
works  like  a  brick,"  he  added,  his  youthful  ardor 
making  him  forget  to  choose  his  words.  "And 
he's  really  getting  a  capital  business  together,  in 
a  small  way.  And  if  ever  a  man  deserved  it  he 
does  :  up  early  and  late,  always  most  gentlemanly 
to  every-body.  His  two  lads  would  lie  down  for 
him  to  tread  on  them.  Never  drinks  a  drop,  nor 
wastes  a  penny,  nor  says  a  bad  word  ;  church 
every  Sunday,  morning  and  evening." 

He  was  encouraged  by  his  customer's  marked 
attention. 

"You  give  him  a  good  character,"  he  now  said. 
"  I  suppose  he's  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Not  more  of  mine  than  of  the  rest  of  his 
neighbors.  You  can  ask  where  you  like  round 
here;  we  all  say  the  same — except,  perhaps,  at 
the  Fox  over  yonder.  He's  too  teetotal  for 
them,  and  has  influenced  one  or  two  of  our 
costers  hereabouts  to  be  the  same." 
15 


226         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"Friendly  with  costers,  then,  also?  Rather 
strange  for  a  respectable  tradesman  !  " 

"Only  with  one,  sir;  a  big  chap  they  call  the 
'  Little  'un,'  who  they  say  took  a  fancy  for  him 
because  he  knocked  him  down  for  ill-using  a 
cripple." 

"Good-looking  man  ?"  enquired  the  stranger 
carelessly.  His  heart  contracted,  with  a  sudden 
wrathful  memory  of  a  good-looking  good-for- 
nothing,  who  had  robbed  him  first  of  the  love, 
then  of  the  life,  of  the  one  human  creature  he 
cherished. 

"He  is,"  said  the  assistant,  "a  picture  of  a 
man,  in  his  Sunday  clothes — or  even  in  his 
colored  shirt." 

"Quite  a  paragon,"  said  Mr.  Smith  leisurely. 
"I  think,  while  you  finish  that  job,  I'll  go  and 
taste  his  stock  and  have  a  look  at  him." 

He  made  a  few  further  enquiries,  on  the  excuse 
of  small  purchases,  in  other  shops,  and  finally  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Fruit  Stores.  He  found  matters 
in  some  confusion;  a  scavenger's  cart  had  col- 
lapsed just  outside,  and  had  bespattered  Mr. 
Tyrawley's  windows  with  its  liquid  contents. 
Tyrawley,  with  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  displaying 
arms  in  which  there  was  certainly  more  muscle 
than  flesh,  was  cleaning  them  assiduously,  pale 
and  perspiring  with  the  effort,  for  it  was  a  heavy 
day,  and  casting  anxious  glances  at  his  shop- 
door  from  time  to  time,  to  see  that  he  did  not 
miss  a  customer. 


THAT    LITTLE   VIPER  227 

Mr.  Smith  drew  near  and  watched  him  nar- 
rowly, then  said,  "Warm  work,  eh  ?" 

Tyrawley  turned  round  with  rather  a  weary 
smile,  but  remarked  that  it  was  all  in  the  day's 
work.  He  was  rather  surprised  at  the  intentness 
with  which  Mr.  Smith  regarded  him,  and  still 
more  so  when  the  latter  followed  him  into  the 
shop  and  gave  him  a  liberal,  but  rather  peculiar, 
order,  which  took  time  and  trouble  to  carry  out, 
consisting,  as  it  did,  of  small  quantities  of  every 
thing  he  had  in  stock. 

"I'll  give  you  the  address  presently,"  said  his 
visitor  carelessly.  "Thanks, "as  Mr.  Tyrawley 
lifted  over  the  counter  a  high  stool,  the  only 
seat  he  possessed,  and  covered  it  with  a  clean 
brown-paper  bag. 

"Awfully  poor  apology  for  a  cushion,  I'm 
afraid,  sir;  but  I  haven't  time  to  be  a  Sybarite." 

Mr.  Smith  continued  to  observe  him  with  a 
keenness  strangely  touched  from  time  to  time 
with  melancholy,  and  even  softness.  He  took 
in  every  detail — the  traces  of  care  and  pain  on 
his  tenant's  face,  his  frequent  cough,  the  slight 
hectic  on  his  cheek,  his  well-mended  clothes, 
contrasting  with  the  undefinable  polish  of  every 
word  and  action. 

"Does  your  business  pay  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"Fairly,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley,  repressing  a 
sigh.  "  Unluckily  I  have  no  capital,  and  a 
fellow  needs  that  before  he  can  safely  launch 
out.  I  hate  debt." 


228          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

"  Been  in  the  trade  long  ? " 

"Only  a  few  months,  sir.  I  started,"  said  he, 
with  a  laugh,  "  as  a  coster's  assistant  ;  so  I've 
risen  in  the  world." 

"  May  I  ask  what  you  were  in  before  ?  " 

The  other's  forehead  clouded,  and  he  looked 
his  visitor  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  answered, 
"Something  much  less  respectable,  though,  I 
suppose,  more  aristocratic." 

"  What  ?"  said  Mr.  Smith  bluntly. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  rather  elevated  his  eyebrows  at 
this  catechism,  but  replied,  with  calm  candor, 
picking  a  handful  of  onions  out  of  a  basket : 

"  Since  you  honor  me,  sir,  by  taking  an  interest 
in  me,  I  may  reply — billiards,  cards,  and  their 
concomitants.  But  it  was  a  beastly  life  !  "  he 
added,  wiping  his  brow;  "and,  thank  Heaven, 
it's  done  with  forever." 

"Excuse  my  questions.  I  take  some  interest 
in  beginners  in  trade.  Do  you  like  this,  com- 
pared to  the  other  ? " 

"Yes,  though  it's  a  hardish  struggle."  He 
leaned  against  the  counter  for  a  moment  and 
coughed,  as  a  man  does  whom  coughing  hurts. 

"Chest  weak  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  heart  too,  I'm  afraid;  but  I  can 
get  along,  I  think,  all  right,  now  summer  is  here. 
At  least,  I  hope  so,  for  if  not " 

"  What,,  if  not?" 

"The  workhouse,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Tyrawley 
dejectedly. 


THAT    LITTLE    VIPER  22Q 

"But  surely  you  might  find  some  friend  or 
relative  who  would  help  you  a  little,  and  make 
a  pecuniary  advance  ?  " 

"  The  only  friend  I  have  who  could  do  that  has 
done  too  much  already — nursed  me  back  from 
death's  door,  and  a  great  deal  besides  that,  which 
I  couldn't  bother  a  stranger  with.  Here's  your 
parcel,  sir.  Where  shall  I  send  it  ? " 

Mr.  Smith  seemed  not  to  hear  the  question. 
He  thought  a  moment,  then  said  deliberately, 
"I  sometimes  help  forward  a  deserving  man, 
kept  back  for  want  of  capital,  myself.  I  suppose 
the  friend  you  were  speaking  of  could  be  referred 
to  ?  If  you  like  to  trust  me  with  his  name,  I'll 
think  the  matter  over  and  communicate  with  you 
further." 

Tyrawley  was  surprised.  Strangers  who  offer 
loans  without  security  are  rare  in  Plebham,  as 
elsewhere  ;  but  there  was  a  plutocratic  solemnity 
about  Mr.  Smith  which  forbade  suspicion.  He 
therefore  scribbled  down  MacAdam's  name  and 
address  on  a  billhead,  with  the  observation  that 
the  doctor  knew  the  best  and  the  worst  of  him,  if 
there  was  a  best. 

"You've  forgotten  to  ask  my  name,"  said 
Mr.  Smith. 

"  I  concluded,  sir,  you  would  have  told  me,  if 
you  had  wished  me  to  know  it." 

"  Unbusiness-like,  but  honorable,  young  man. 
Well,  I  wish  you  good-afternoon,  and  good  trade." 

Then  Mr.  Smith  produced  his  purse,  counted 


230         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

his  change  with  accuracy,  gave  his  address — The 
Oaks,  Grasswich — but  no  name,  and  departed, 
with  a  strange,  long,  wistful  look  in  the  other's 
face.  He  got  his  watch  from  the  jeweller's  with- 
out a  needless  word,  and  left  Plebham  straight- 
way, and  before  that  afternoon's  post  wrote  to 
MacAdam  a  letter  marked  "private,"  which 
caused  that  worthy  instantaneously  to  execute 
a  portion  of  a  Scotch  reel  before  he  sat  down  to 
answer  it  promptly  and  fully. 

The  excitement  of  the  stranger's  visit,  and  the 
faint  hope  it  had  created  in  Mr.  Tyrawley's 
breast,  had  scarcely  subsided  before  Mr.  Jim 
Naylor  bounced  in,  looking  quite  pale  for  him. 
He  bolted  the  shop-door. 

"Do  you  know  who  you've  had  here,  guv'nor?" 
said  he  tragically. 

Tyrawley  shook  his  head. 

"  Why,  Mr.  William  Smith,  your  landlord  !  and 
I'll  lay  a  tenpun'  note  to  a  tanner  that  it's  that 
hound  brought  him  down  upon  yer.  Did  he  say 
you  would  hear  from  him  further,  or  summat  of 
that  natur'  ?  " 

His  breathlessness  communicated  itself  to  Mr. 
Tyrawley,  who  became,  moreover,  much  whiter 
than  Jim  himself. 

"Yes,  Jim,  he  did.     What  then  ?" 

"Why,  that's  his  way.  That  comes  before  the 
kick-out.  Here's  an  awful  go  !  But,"  said  Mr. 
Naylor,  with  a  forlorn  satisfaction,  "blowed  and 
blessed  if  I  don't  square  accounts  with  that  there 


THAT    LITTLE   VIPER  231 

little  viper.  Come,  cheer  up,  my  gentleman 
guv'nor.  There's  lots  of  other  cribs  besides  this; 
or  you  could  go  foreman  at  the  West  End,  now 
you  knows  the  trade.  Why,  they'll  jump  at  you, 
just  for  to  wheedle  the  young  ladies  into  buying 
bokays  orbukkets — which  is  the  French?  Never 
say  die  ! " 

Mr.  Tyrawley  did  rather  say  it  in  his  heart, 
for  he  feared  that  Jim's  theory  was  but  too  likely 
to  be  correct.  However,  he  forced  a  smile  and, 
being  presently  called  upon  to  serve  three  small 
boys  with  apples,  Mr.  Naylor  retired,  leaving  his 
sting  behind  him. 


CHAPTER    XXII 
NEMESIS    AND    EXCELSIOR 

MR.  TYRAWLEY  struggled  through  the  next 
five  days  with  an  anxious  heart  and  a  weary 
body,  for  he  began  to  feel  that  he  was  an 
Ishmael  indeed.  He  almost  made  up  his  mind 
that,  if  expelled  from  Gregory  Street,  he  would 
take  his  place  among  the  hopeless  swarm  who 
gather  round  the  dock  gates,  like  the  drift  on  the 
river  outside,  write  a  farewell  note  to  MacAdam 
and  Nina,  and  disappear,  this  time  irrevocably. 

Things  did  not  look  much  brighter  when,  on 
the  sixth  morning,  as  he  was  sweeping  out  his 
shop  in  the  teeth  of  a  bitter  wind  (for  summer) 
and  cold  rain,  the  early  postman  delivered  to  him 
the  following  letter  : 

"  SIR  :  Mr.  Smith  requests  that  you  will  call 
upon  him  at  The  Oaks,  Grasswich,  at  3.30  to- 
morrow, Friday  afternoon,  in  re  your  tenancy  of 
No.  i  Gregory  Street,  Plebham. 
"Yours,  etc., 

"S.  ROBINSON,  Agent." 

Tyrawley  laid  aside  the  note,  finished  his 
sweeping  in  a  half-hearted  fashion,  and  sum- 


NEMESIS   AND    EXCELSIOR  233 

moned  Mr.  Naylor  to  a  council.  That  gentle- 
man could  only  shake  his  head  very  gloomily, 
and  comfort  himself  by  threats  of  condign 
vengeance  on  Mr.  John  Paget. 

"  But  you'd  best  go,  because  you  may  talk  him 
into  giving  you  time  to  turn  around  and  look 
about  you,"  he  remarked. 

Tyrawley's  heart  contracted  as  he  looked 
around  the  little  shop  which  had  been  the  founda- 
tion stone  of  so  many  air-castles.  A  sort  of 
dogged  pride  prevented  his  taking  tram  or  train 
or  putting  on  his  Sunday  clothes,  as  Jim  sug- 
gested; so  he  arrived,  after  a  long  walk,  drenched 
and  exhausted,  and  feeling  as  if  all  the  fight  were 
gone  out  of  him.  He  was  not  sorry  to  be  con- 
ducted through  the  solemn  splendors  of  the  hall 
into  a  small  back  office  looking  on  the  stable- 
yard,  the  domain  of  Mr.  Smith's  agent  when  his 
services  were  required  there.  A  post-card  lay 
on  the  desk  close  to  the  chair  placed  for  him, 
on  which  he  could  scarcely  help  seeing  this 
inscription  : 

"  DEAR  MR.  SMITH: 

"It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  call  upon 
you  at  four  o'clock  on  Friday. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"  JOHN  PAGET." 

Mr.  Tyrawley  wiped  his  forehead,  and  for  the 
moment  shared  Naylor's  feelings.  After  he  had 


234         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

cooled  his  heels,  and  his  small  remaining  stock  of 
courage,  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  was 
conducted  to  Mr.  Smith's  own  office,  where  that 
gentleman  sat  reading  some  legal  documents,  in 
company  with  a  friend  as  legal  looking  as  the 
documents.  He  nodded  to  Tyrawley,  without 
asking  him  to  be  seated. 

"This,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  he,  "  is  the  person  I 
was  telling  you  about." 

Mr.  Sharp's  countenance  was  professionally 
blank,  but  he  took  a  very  long  look  at  the  new- 
comer, taking  in,  the  latter  felt,  his  jersey,  and 
then  bowed  to  him  with  considerable  politeness, 
at  which  a  faint,  grim  smile  flickered  on  Mr. 
Smith's  lips,  which  was  slightly  and  ruefully 
reflected  on  Mr.  Tyrawley's. 

"Well,"  said  the  former,  "we'll  proceed  to 
business.  I  presume  you  can  guess  why  I  sent 
for  you? " 

"I  suppose,"  said  Tyrawley,  rather  doggedly, 
"  it  was  to  give  me  notice  that  you  don't  require 
me  as  a  tenant  any  longer." 

His  heart  beat  quick;  he  could  not  help  a 
slight  touch  of  appeal  in  his  tone;  but  Mr.  Smith 
replied  deliberately,  "  Precisely.  I  mean  no 
reflection  on  you,  but  you  are  not  the  sort  of 
tenant  I  want." 

"A  week's  notice,  I  conclude?  "  said  Tyrawley, 
hardening  himself. 

"We'll  talk  of  that  presently.  I  suppose  you 
intend  going  on  with  the  business  elsewhere?" 


NEMESIS   AND   EXCELSIOR  235 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Tyrawley.  A 
beaten  feeling  was  coming  over  him. 

"  Oh!     Going  back  to  the  other  pursuits  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  ejected  tenant,  drawing 
up  his  head  defiantly,  but  speaking  with  attempted 
lightness.  "  I  think  I  shall  go  in  for  agricul- 
ture; it  will  be  pleasant,  now  the  autumn  is 
coming  on." 

"Farmer?"  enquired  Mr.  Smith,  elevating  his 
eyebrows. 

"No;  laborer,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

Mr.  Tyrawley  did  not  see  why  he  should  be 
further  cross-questioned  by  a  landlord  who  was 
evicting  him.  So  he  looked  at  the  door  sugges- 
tively. At  his  answer,  Mr.  Smith  had  exchanged 
an  approving  look  with  his  solicitor,  who  now 
began  to  finger  the  documents  on  the  table. 

"A  moment,"  said  Mr.  Smith.  "  Before  you 
leave,  just  cast  your  eye  over  those  papers  and 
give  me  your  opinion.  Show  them  to  him, 
Sharp." 

"  You  had  better  sit  down,  sir,"  said  the  polite 
Sharp. 

Bewildered  and  annoyed,  Tyrawley  sat  down 
and  cast  his  eye  carelessly  over  the  papers.  But 
it  was  with  a  widened  gaze  of  unspeakable  amaze- 
ment that  he  gathered,  from  the  by-ways  of 
legal  phraseology,  the  fact  that  certain  large  fruit 
and  floral  businesses,  and  large  nurseries  in  the 
suburbs,  were  conveyed,  for  his  exclusive  use 
and  benefit  from  this  day  forth,  to  Infelix  Tyraw- 


236         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

ley.  His  nostrils  quivered,  his  hand  trembled, 
his  breath  came  quick — almost  too  quick  for  the 
faint  question  which  his  white  lips  could  hardly 
form:  "What — what  can  this  mean?  It  is  a 
cruel  joke  !  " 

Then  Mr.  Smith  rose  up  and  came  to  him,  and, 
with  rather  a  shaking  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  a 
husky  voice,  said:  "No,  it's  no  joke,  my  fine  fel- 
low— for  you  are  a  fine  fellow!  I've  turned  you 
out  of  Gregory  Street,  but  I've  put  you  in  there 
instead,  for  two  reasons :  First,  because  you're  a 
son  of  my  poor  dead  Felicia,  my  little  sister,  and 
blood  is  thicker  than  water,  after  all;  and,  sec- 
ond, because,  if  you  have  had  a  bad  past,  you 
have  shaken  yourself  free  of  it,  and  worked  your 
way  up  from  it  like  a  man,  and  made  me  feel 
proud  that  you  belong  to  me." 

Tyrawley  tried  to  rise  to  answer,  but  the  strain 
and  the  reaction  were  too  great.  A  deadly  white- 
ness swept  over  his  face,  a  black  mist  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  collapsed  in  a  helpless  heap  on  the 
floor. 

Mr.  Sharp  jumped  up,  and  the  two  men  lifted 
the  long,  limp  figure  on  to  a  leather  couch,  while 
the  matched  parlor-maids  were  summoned  in  a 
hurry  with  restoratives. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  you  were  too  hard  on  the 
poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  reproachfully  to  his 
client,  as  he  stood,  in  the  background — "after 
such  very  creditable  conduct  on  his  part,  too." 

"Oh,   he'll    come  round,  poor  lad!"    said  the 


NEMESIS   AND   EXCELSIOR  237 

latter;  "and,  bless  my  soul,  Sharp!  you  don't 
expect  a  fellow  as  big  as  a  Life  Guardsman  to 
faint  like  a  young  lady." 

At  this  juncture  Tyrawley  opened  his  eyes,  and 
opined  faintly  that  his  heart  was  making  an  awful 
row  about  something. 

Mr.  Smith  took  the  bottles  of  salts  and  sal- 
volatile  from  the  maids'  hands,  and  promptly 
ordered  them  to  retire,  with  the  remark  that  the 
gentleman,  his  nephew,  would  dine  and  sleep  at 
The  Oaks. 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Tyrawley,  in  an  uncertain 
voice,  and  staring  wildly  about  him,  "I  must  be 
mad.  What  am  I  doing  here  ?  I  ought  to  be  at 
the  shop." 

Here  his  newly  discovered  uncle  bade  him  hold 
his  tongue,  nearly  choked  him  with  the  salts,  and 
inconsistently  asked  him  what  wine  he  would 
take. 

"I  don't  drink,  sir,  thank  you.  I  shall  be  all 
right  presently.  I  have  done  this  sort  of  folly 
before.  But  I  should  be  awfully  obliged,"  he 
added  entreatingly,  "  if  you  wouldn't  mind  giving 
me  some  explanation." 

Mr.  Smith  cleared  his  throat,  but  words  seemed 
hard  to  find;  so  Mr.  Sharp  stepped  into  the 
breach,  with  a  clear  and  agreeable  statement  of 
the  whole  matter,  and  concluded  by  reading  an 
abstract  of  the  documents. 

"You  have  shown  that  you  like  work,"  said 
Mr.  Smith,  "and  have  none  of  your  rascally 


238         THE    APOTHEOSIS    OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

father's  ideas — nothing  of  him  that  I  can  see, 
except  his  good  looks.  But  you  look  no  more  fit 
for  business  than  that  candle." 

His  nephew  now  managed  sufficient  breath  and 
comprehension  to  express  his  thanks;  and  a 
pleasant  conversation  followed,  in  which  Mr. 
Tyrawley's  manners  produced  their  usual  effect 
on  Mr.  Sharp,  who  cast  congratulatory  glances  at 
intervals  on  his  client. 

"By  the  way,"  said  the  latter,  "there's  that 
little  whipper-snapper  Page,  or  Paget,  or  what- 
ever his  name  is."  That  name  had  lost  its  terrors 
for  Mr.  Tyrawley  now;  he  could  laugh  when  Mr. 
Smith  rang  the  bell,  and  said  to  the  parlor-maid: 
"Ask  Mr.  Paget  to  step  here." 

Now  the  hope  of  perfected  vengeance  had  kept 
Mr.  Paget  in  good  humor  through  protracted 
waiting,  and  he  entered  with  his  usual  well- 
assured  jauntiness.  It  was  of  brief  duration. 
His  eye  had  scarcely  fallen  on  Tyrawley  before 
Mr.  Smith  remarked:  "This,  sir,  is  my  tenant, 
whom  I  have  turned  out  in  compliance  with  your 
wishes,  and  whom  your  officious  ill-nature  has 
been  the  means  of  introducing  to  me  as  my 
nephew  and  my  heir." 

Mr.  Paget  turned  pale-green,  and  sneered  and 
spluttered,  "  I — I — I'm  at  a  loss " 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  Smith.  "If  the 
man  had  been  a  stranger,  I  should  feel  it  my 
duty  to  honor  and  help  him." 

Here  the  amiable  Tyrawley,  pitying  his  foe's 


NEMESIS    AND    EXCELSIOR  239 

discomfiture,  and  possibly  with  a  thought  of 
after  family  union,  held  out  his  hand.  "I  say, 
Paget,"  said  he,  "we'll  forget  the  past,  if  you 
like.  I  suppose  you  thought  you  were  doing 
right;  only  you  did  hit  so  hard,  and  always  on 
the  sore  place." 

But  Mr.  Paget  would  not  see  the  hand.  "  I 
dare  say,"  he  replied,  "such  forgetfulness  is  con- 
venient to  you.  However,  I  will  not  interrupt  this 
interesting  family  drama,  and  will  take  my  leave, 
expressing  a  hope,  sir,  that  you  and  your  legal 
adviser  will  not  have  cause  bitterly  to  regret 
your  precipitate  generosity."  And  he  quitted 
the  room  rather  ingloriously. 

It  was  growing  dusk.  Some  parts  of  Grass- 
wich  are  lonely,  with  a  suburban  loneliness,  and 
Mr.  Paget  thought  he  would  take  a  short  cut, 
and  get  out  of  it  as  quickly  as  possible.  So  he 
chose  a  narrow  lane  which  led,  he  knew,  to  a 
tram  terminus.  He  got  about  half-way  when  he 
suddenly  felt  a  choking  sensation  caused  by  the 
insertion  of  some  large  knuckles  between  his 
neck  and  his  collar;  and  the  next  moment  found 
himself  laid  on  his  back  in  the  muddy  gutter, 
while  a  hoarse  voice  remarked  : 

"Now,  you've  got  to  do  one  of  two  things: 
lay  there  and  let  me  kick  you,  or  get  up  and 
lick  me,  if  you  can.  It  ain't  no  good  calling  the 
blessed  copper,  for  he's  a  mile  away." 

Mr.  Paget  made  no  verbal  reply,  but  merely 
scrambled  up,  aimed  a  feeble  blow  at  his  enemy's 


240         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

stomach,   which  the  latter  characterized  as    "a 
foul,"  and  then  attempted  to  run  away. 

"No,  yer  don't,"  said  Mr.  Naylor,  for  it  was 
he;  catching  hold  casually  of  a  handful  of  coat- 
tail,  and  bringing  him  back.  "You've  got  to 
be  punished,  you  have.  And  I'm  the  judge,  and 
the  jury,  and  the  prison  warder,  and,  so  to  speak, 
the  hangman." 

His  grip  was  so  strong,  and  his  large  form  so 
magnified  by  just  wrath,  the  dusk,  and  a  vast  red 
comforter,  which  covered  his  face  up  to  the  eyes, 
that  Mr.  Paget's  spirit  quailed,  and  he  begged 
for  mercy. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Naylor  calmly.  "  You're  a 
merciful  character,  ain't  you  ?  You  don't  hit 
a  chap  when  he's  made  a  slip,  and  black  him  all 
you  can  behind  his  back.  Yah  !  you  hit  me  ! 
only  fair  this  time,  mind,  or  I'll  hit  you." 

Thus  encouraged,  Mr.  Paget  made  a  futile 
and  desperate  dab  at  Mr.  Naylor's  large  expanse 
of  chin,  and  that  gentleman,  ducking  his  head 
carelessly  aside,  proceeded  to  administer  a  neat 
and  complete  thrashing.  It  was,  however, 
strictly  judicial,  such,  he  afterward  remarked 
to  an  intimate  friend,  as  he  would  have  adminis- 
tered to  a  nipper  of  his  own,  if  he  had  had  one. 
He  slightly  blackened  Mr.  Paget's  eyes,  grazed 
the  tip  of  his  nose,  tore  his  clothes — with  a 
vengeful  remembrance  of  Mr.  Tyrawley's  jersey 
— threw  his  hat  down  and  trampled  on  it, 
replaced  it  on  his  head  with  a  bang;  and  con- 


NEMESIS   AND    EXCELSIOR  241 

eluded  with  a  general  drubbing,  which,  in  point 
of  making  every  bone  proclaim  its  existence,  left 
nothing  to  be  desired. 

"  There!"  he  said,  conducting  his  victim  by 
the  collar  with  enforced  rapidity  and  high  action 
to  a  dead  wall,  and  propping  him  against  it  like 
a  weak-kneed  doll,  "you  stop  there,  and  don't 
you  venture  to  move  nor  call  out  for  a  blessed 
hour  by  that  ticker  of  yourn,  or,  chance  the 
ducks,  I'll  come  back  and  finish  my  job 
complete." 

Mr.  Paget  had  never  come  across  the  rough 
side  of  life  before,  and  he  was  completely  cowed, 
and  in  his  terror  more  than  obeyed  Jim's  in- 
junction. It  was  full  two  hours  before  he  crept 
timorously  back  to  the  main  road.  Then, 
indeed,  he  sought  the  police  station,  and  made 
an  angry  complaint;  but  he  looked  so  terribly 
disreputable,  blustered  so  feebly,  and  so  abused 
the  local  police,  that  it  was  treated  in  the  coldest 
and  slightest  manner;  especially  as  he  could  not 
state  either  the  name  or  the  probable  object  of 
his  assailant.  It  might,  however,  have  been  a 
consolation  to  Jim  to  learn  that  the  chastisement 
he  had  administered  implanted  in  Paget's  mind 
the  first  rudimentary  idea  of  the  painfulness  of 
punishment. 

When  Mr.  Tyrawley  came  down  to  breakfast 
next  morning,  white  and  languid,  much  be- 
wildered by  the  luxury  around  him,  but  with  a 
sense  of  a  weight  lifted  off,  many  surprises 
16 


242          THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

awaited  him.  He  was  informed,  in  the  first 
place,  that  Gregory  Street  would  know  him  no 
more,  and  that  his  destination  for  the  next  fort- 
night was  the  best  suite  of  rooms  in  the  best 
hotel  in  his  old  haunt  of  Claretown. 

"It's  awfully  kind,"  he  said,  looking  up  from 
the  depths  of  an  easy  chair  at  the  solid  figure 
of  Mr.  Smith,  who  smiled  a  smile  of  benevolent 
possession  down  on  him.  "Awfully!  But,  in 
the  first  place,  I  don't  need  rest;  I'm  only  a  little 
done  from  bother.  And,  in  the  second — why, 
really,  my  clothes  aren't  fit  for  such  a  swell  place. 
Let  me  put  it  off,  please,  sir,"  he  added  persua- 
sively, "till  I  can  do  you  a  little  more  credit." 

"Clothes,"  said  Mr.  Smith  sententiously,  "do 
not  make  a  man,  nor  a  gentleman,  which  is  less. 
Still,  I've  ordered  somebody  from  Poole's  to  be 
here  shortly,  to  supply  what  is  needed." 

"Poole!"  gasped  Tyrawley.  "But  that  was 
quite  unnecessary.  You're  much  too  good  to 
me.  You  make  me  afraid  I  shall  never  turn  out 
well  enough  even  to  show  that  I'm  grateful,  much 
less  to  repay  you." 

"Your  friend,  Dr.  MacAdam,  seems  to  think 
otherwise.  And  if  he  didn't,  it's  something,  my 
dear  lad,  to  have  somebody  of  one's  own  " — and 
he  laid  his  hand  on  his  nephew's  shoulder — "and 
so,  so  like  my  poor  little  Fel." 

"I'm  glad  you  think  so,  sir.  I'm  afraid,"  said 
Tyrawley  apologetically,  "I'm  too  much  like 
my  father  to  be  pleasant." 


NEMESIS   AND    EXCELSIOR  243 

"His  features,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  "but  her 
eyes.  Poor  girl!  this  would  make  her  happy." 

A  day  or  two  later  MacAdam's  groom  was 
controlling  the  impatience  of  Fireworks  outside 
the  Claretown  Station.  Dr.  MacAdam  himself 
waited  on  the  platform  to  seize  Tyrawley  by 
both  hands  and  nearly  shake  those  members  off. 
He  was  introduced)  to  Mr.  Smith,  and  then 
exclaimed  characteristically  : 

"Look  at  this  idiot!  Writing  to  me  that 
he  was  all  right,  but  a  trifling  cold  !  and  look- 
ing as  thin  as  a  lath  and  as  white  as  my 
shirt." 

Tyrawley  protested  that  he  was  only  a  little 
run  down.  MacAdam  walked  him  and  his  uncle 
off,  to  get  up  behind  Fireworks  and  have  lunch 
at  his  house.  The  little  doctor  chaffed  all  the 
way,  but  there  was  a  suspicion  of  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  managed  to  take  Mr.  Smith  aside 
and  whisper  anxiously  : 

"  I  don't  like  his  looks.  Awfully  phthisical. 
Make  him  coddle  himself,  or  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I  don't  think  he'll  give  us  the  slip.  Got  that 
nasty  bright  look  about  his  eyes." 

And  the  doctor  hurried  upstairs  to  introduce 
Mr.  Smith  to  his  sister. 

The  afternoon,  which  was  already  well  on 
when  they  rose  from  the  luncheon-table,  was 
spent  in  the  discussion  of  Tyrawley's  business 
prospects  for  the  future,  and  of  the  humor  and 
hardships  of  the  last  few  months.  Then  uncle 


244         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.    TYRAWLEY 

and  nephew  dined  tete-a-tete  but  sumptuously  at 
their  hotel,  and  shortly  after  Mr.  Smith  evinced 
a  remarkable  restlessness,  looking  often  at  a 
mighty  gold  chronometer,  a  fac-simile  of  which 
he  had  presented  to  Tyrawley,  whom  its  ponder- 
ous glories  almost  overawed. 

"  Why,  a  fellow,"  he  said,  with  a  half-awkward, 
half-comic  retrospect,  "could  live  handsomely  on 
this  for  a  fortnight !  " 

Mr.  Smith  smiled  grimly,  and  remarked  that  he 
had  another  "uncle"  now.  "But,"  he  added, 
"I  have  an  engagement,  which  I  must  keep,  on 
the  West  Cliff." 

"I'll  come  with  you,  if  I  may,  sir,  and  have  a 
stroll  on  the  beach  meanwhile." 

He  had  an  inward  thought  of  how  fitting  it 
would  be  that  he,  who  had  been  led,  like  Israel, 
through  deep  waters,  should  stand  in  the  moon- 
light by  the  great  sea  which  had  so  nearly  been 
his  grave,  and  give  silent  thanksgiving  to  his 
mighty  Guide.  So  he  parted  with  Mr.  Smith  on 
the  stretch  of  turf  above  the  beach,  and  then 
went  dreamily  down  across  the  glistening 
pebbles,  and  seating  himself  on  a  rock  like  a  rude 
arm-chair,  leaned  his  head  back  on  his  arm  and 
mused.  The  moon  was  making  her  glorious 
silver  highway  across  the  deep-blue  ripples  that 
murmured  gently  in  the  evening  stillness,  sliding 
back  across  the  gleaming  sand,  a  few  yards 
further  away.  Under  those  whispering  waves 
were  the  rocks  among  which  he  had  knelt  to  die, 


NEMESIS   AND    EXCELSIOR  245 

with  the  sirens'  song  in  his  ears,  alternating  with 
the  Christmas  carol  of  Rooksholm. 

The  sirens  were  powerless  now;  that  higher 
song  had  silenced  them.  He  looked  up  into  the 
great  vault  of  azure,  with  its  star  jewels  over- 
head, and  his  soul  seemed  to  mount  on  eagles' 
wings  of  wonder  and  praise. 

"Yes,"  he  murmured,  "it  has  been,  indeed, 
'  Peace  on  earth,  and  mercy  mild.'  Thank 
God !  " 

A  light  step  neared  his  rocky  seat,  but  he  was 
too  wrapped  in  visions  of  the  past  to  hear  it. 
He  thought  of  how  he  had  been  used  to  save  his 
own  best  treasure,  the  earthly  instrument  of  his 
salvation;  of  that  strange  moment  when  first  he 
held  that  dearest  friend  in  his  friendless  arms 
and  loved  her;  of  that  yet  stranger  moment 
when  the  magical  touch  of  her  young  lips  on  his 
hand  had  shown  him  to  what  base  use  that  hand 
had  been  given.  He  remembered  it  so  keenly 
that  he  felt  it  there  once  more. 

And  lo  !  it  was  no  vision.  On  that  hand, 
which  had  hot  yet  lost  the  roughness  of  the 
workaday  world  he  had  moved  in,  a  light  and 
tender  kiss  fell  like  a  rose-leaf.  He  rose  to  his 
feet  and  turned  slowly  round,  like  a  man  under  a 
spell.  A  tall  and  slender  figure,  with  pale  and 
shining  hair,  radiant  eyes,  and  a  tremulous  smile, 
stood  in  the  moon's  white  glory  before  him. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  till,  her  arm  round  his 
neck,  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  lips 


246         THE    APOTHEOSIS   OF    MR.     TYRAWLEY 

fondly  and  reverently  touching,  now  that  shining 
hair,  now  that  half-hidden  brow,  he  whispered  : 
"  Oh,  my  heart's  darling  !  Thank  God  !  " 
Mr.  Smith's  errand  has  probably  been  guessed. 
While  Tyrawley  and  Nina  were  arranging  matters 
to  their  own  satisfaction,  though  without  the 
least  definite  plan,  their  elders  in  Cupola  Square, 
where  the  St.  Justs  had  arrived  three  days  be- 
fore, were  settling  more  mundane  things;  Mrs. 
St.  Just  opining,  with  a  fat  sigh  of  relief,  that 
she  had  always  said  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  a  charm- 
ing man,  though  poor  dear  John  Paget  so  dis- 
liked him. 

"Laws,  Jim!  you'll  be  in  plenty  of  time. 
Why,  it  ain't  gone  half-past  nine  yet." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  old  lady;  if  you  don't  sew 
them  busted  buttons  on,  I'm  blowed  if  I  don't  go 
in  nothing  but  them  mawleys  that  my  gentleman 
guv'nor  put  out  of  court  so  tidily  first  time  as 
ever  I  seed  him." 

Mr.  Naylor  was  attired  in  a  perfectly  new 
sleeved  waistcoat,  so  festively  be-buttoned  that 
it  appeared  to  be  trimmed  with  moonlight,  and 
clattered  like  castanets  as  he  moved.  His  hair, 
cut  to  half  an  inch  all  over  his  head,  positively 
distilled  hair  oil,  and  his  large  face  was  shaved  to 
quite  an  agonizing  cleanness. 

On  the  table,  close  to  where  his  wife  was  sew- 
ing on  buttons  for  dear  life  to  a  pair  of  vast  white 
kid  gloves,  reposed  a  marketing  basket  contain- 


NEMESIS   AND   EXCELSIOR  247 

ing  a  small  sack  of  rice,  a  smaller  basket  of 
orange-blossoms,  and  a  pair  of  the  very  largest- 
sized  and  newest  white  satin  shoes.  Mr.  Nay- 
lor's  face  beamed  with  placid  triumph  as  his  eye 
fell  on  these. 

"  I'm  doing  it  handsome,"  he  said,  "  and  quite 
the  cheese,  according  to  all  aristocratic  ways. 
There's  the  sating  shoes,  which  means,  I  sup- 
pose, as  they  ain't  no  call  to  do  nothin'  but  ride 
in  their  carriage  all  day  long;  and  the  orange 
blossoms,  which,  as  you  may  say,  cuts  two  ways, 
as  being  the  usual  thing,  and  also  meaning  a 
'  suffineer,'  as  you  may  say,  of  what  trade  he  was 
in;  and  there's  the  rice,  which  signifies,  I  sup- 
pose, that  there's  plenty  of  rice-puddings  when 
the  babbies  come." 

"Now,  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Naylor,  shocked, 
"don't  you  go  and  say  that  to  the  young  lady, 
pretty  dear  ! " 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for  ? "  replied  Jim, 
with  fine  scorn;  "  me  that's  going  to  drive  a  pair 
of  tiptop  bay  spankers,  in  a  dark  green  wan, 
with  gold  letters — '  The  Flower  and  Fruit 
Stores ' — as  large  as  life,  and  see  my  gentleman 
guv'nor  and  his  young  duchess  once  a  week 
reg'lar  ? " 

"You  might,"  said  Mrs.  Naylor  reproachfully, 
"  have  done  as  they  asted,  and  gone  to  the 
weddin'  in  the  church,  and  took  me." 

"  Not  me  !  "  said  Jim.  "  I  should  have  blowed 
my  old  nose  through  tears1  of  joy  when  the  swell 


248         THE   APOTHEOSIS   OF   MR.    TYRAWLEY 

parson  was  asking  him  if  he  was  downright  sure 
he'd  have  her,  or  shouted  out  '  Hooroar,'  when  I 
should  have  said  'Amen.'  No,  old  gal,  you  can 
go  in  the  gallery,  as  being  the  right  place  for 
you — not  but  what  I've  seen  as  many  boys  as 
gals  there  most  times — but  I  stops  outside  to 
give 'em  a  proper  rattler  with  these 'ere  fancy 
concerns." 

Mr.  Naylor's  programme  was  duly  carried  out, 
though  Mr.  Tyrawley  was  nearly  bonneted  by 
one  of  the  large  satin  shoes,  as  he  assisted  his 
bride  into  the  carriage;  and  Nina  discovered 
that  even  orange-blossoms,  when  launched  by 
a  powerful  and  excited  arm  from  the  edge  of  the 
pavement,  hurt  a  little;  while  the  passers-by, 
whose  eyes  and  ears  he  saluted  with  the  best 
Patna  rice,  rose  against  Jim  in  a  body. 

The  last  sight  bridegroom  and  bride  saw,  as 
they  rolled  away,  was  Mr.  Naylor  splitting  the 
neat  gray  glove  of  little  Dr.  MacAdam,  with  a 
grip  of  agonizing  friendship,  as  these  two  faith- 
ful architects  of  their  fortunes  saw  them  depart. 

Sorrow  and  disaster  come  naturally  enough 
to  a  human  narrator,  but  happiness  is  hard  to 
describe.  That  marriage  had  been  a  sacrament 
indeed,  but  it  was,  after  all,  not  more  so  than 
that  plunge  into  the  green  depths  under  Clare- 
town  pier  which  was  the  first  step  in  the  Apoth- 
eosis of  Mr.  Tyrawley. 

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cents. 

FIFTY  YEARS  AGO.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 
HERR  PAULCS.     8vo,  Paper,  35  cents. 

FOR  FAITH  AND  FREEDOM.     Illustrated.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25; 
8vo,  Paper,  50  cents. 

KATHERIXE  REGINA.     4to,  Paper,  15  cents. 

SELF  OR  BEARER.     4to,  Paper,  15  cents. 

LONDON.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  00. 

ST.  KATHARINE'S  BY  THE  TOWER.     Illustrated.    12mo,  Cloth, 
$1  25 ;  Paper,  50  cents. 

THE  BELL  OF  ST.  PAUL'S.     8vo,  Paper,  35  cents. 

THE  HOLY  ROSE.     4to,  Paper,  20  cents. 

THE    IVORY    GATE.      12mo,    Cloth,  $1  25. 

THE    REBEL  QUEEN.     Illustrated.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY  WELL  THEN.     Illustrated.     12mo, 

Cloth,  $1  25 ;  4to,  Paper,  25  cents. 
THE  INNER  HOUSE.     8vo,  Paper,  30  cents. 
To  CALL  HER  MINE.     Illustrated.     4to,  Paper,  20  cents. 
UNCLE  JACK  AND  OTHER  STORIES.     12mo,  Paper,  25  cents. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

f3f~  The  above  works  are  for  tale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent 
by  thf  publishers,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States 
Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


WILLIAM   BLACK'S    NOVELS 


LIBRARY  EDITION 

Mr.  Black  knows  so  well  just  what  to  describe,  and  to  what 
length,  that  the  scenery  of  his  novels — by  comparison  with  that 
of  many  we  are  obliged  to  read — seems  to  have  been  freshened 
by  soft,  spring  rains.  His  painting  of  character,  his  conversa- 
tions and  situations,  are  never  strongly  dramatic  and  exciting, 
but  they  are  thoroughly  good.  -He  never  gives  us  a  tame  or  a 
tiresome  chapter,  and  this  is  something  for  which  readers  will 
be  profoundly  grateful. — iV.  Y.  Tribune. 

STAND  FAST,  CRAIG -ROYS- 
TON  1  Illustrated. 

SUNRISE. 

THAT  BEAUTIFUL  WRETCH. 
Illustrated. 

THE  MAGIC  INK,  AND  OTH- 
ER STORIES.  Illustrated. 

THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES 
OF  A  HOUSE-BOAT.  Ill'd. 

THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES 
OF  A  PHAETON. 

THREE  FEATHERS. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  HETH. 

A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 

DONALD  ROSS  OF  HEIMRA. 

GREEN  PASTURES  AND  PIC- 
CADILLY. 

IN  FAR  LOCIIABER. 

IN  SILK  ATTIRE. 

JUDITH  SHAKESPEARE.  Il- 
lustrated. 

KILMENY. 

MACLEOD  OF  DARE.    Ill'd. 

MADCAP  VIOLET. 

PRINCE  FORTUNATUS.    Ill'd. 

SABINA  ZEMBRA. 

SHANDON  BELLS.    Illustrated. 


WHITE  HEATHER. 
WHITE  WINGS.    Illustrated. 
YOLANDE.     Illustrated. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25  per  volume. 
WOLFENBERG.— THE  HANDSOME   HUMES. 
Illustrated.    12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50  per  volume. 

HIGHLAND  COUSINS. 

Illustrated.    12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  75. 

Complete  Sets,  20  volumes,  Cloth,  $30  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $57  00. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

43T  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  'or  will  be  sent  by 
the  publishers,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or 
Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JAN  2 


id)  II II 

1    V-'    \    /  <"»      t   A  r 


3  1158  00955  6910 


A    000027795    4 


